Her

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By Sheena Bosket

Every night I fall asleep looking at my wife. Sometimes I run my thumb softly, gently, over her cheek, so as not to wake her. Sometimes I whisper, “I love you” into her ear, hoping she’ll hear it in her sleep and smile. She did once.

Some nights, I only look at her for a minute before my eyelids close, encouraged by my waiting dreams.

The first night I didn’t fall asleep looking at my wife’s face, I knew something was wrong. That night, my wife fell asleep facing the wall. That was the beginning of the end of everything.

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