Shanghai Sun – The Curse of the General – Chapter 13 – Hockey night

An American Executive travels to China to solve the mystery of funds drainage from the company he works for.

Once in Shanghai, he finds himself tangled into a world of mysticism, into a world of traditions going back hundreds of years, into a world of philosophical meanings meant to close cosmological paths and previously set destinies.

Action, romance, drama, humor, History, Geography and Philosophy – they all come together in an attempt to blend the dynamic western way of life onto the rich Chinese culture and uncanny traditions.

Chapter 13

Weekend in the suburbs – a Saturday to remember – Hockey night

He passionately kissed her on her lips, on the neck, while carrying her upstairs to the Master Bedroom. The robes went flying and in no time they were engaging once again in a passionate, wild sexual encounter maybe fed this time by their fear of not knowing what the future would hold for them.

They both put into this act everything they had in their reservoir of positive spiritual and material energy, everything they emotionally were capable of releasing at that point. The act was so passionate, that one would’ve thought the two sweaty bodies were actually just one, with the difference that one half was going through excitement, and convulsions, while the other half was going through extreme pleasure and intermittently through moderate pain.

John was kissing his wife on the neck, shoulders and breasts. Her nipples were hard like rocks; John took advantage and grabbed them with his lips, squishing them as hard as he could, making Linda moan from pleasure. Her legs encircled John’s middle section and there was no sign that she would even consider letting go. It was wild, it was passionate, it was like they wanted to make up for some unfulfilled moments they might’ve missed, for some instances where they could’ve done better or they could’ve been closer.

Without knowing it, the shadows of the dusk entirely captured the neighborhood and the room eventually went dark. John was now resting his head by Linda’s left ear while her arms were wrapped around his neck trying to draw every single ounce of energy he had left. It was selfish, but her natural instinct kicked in…it was a sort of: “I want him to remember me”.

-Wanna’ head for the shower? John’s voice was soft, enticing, but in the same time it was the voice of a man who was exhausted from all the physical work he did and was now asking for a break, for a moment of respire, of settling, of rest so he could catch a breath.

-That’s it, big boy? This is the best you can do? Linda’s giggling made John realize that she cracked a joke; a muffled laughing came out of his chest, passionately kissed her on the moth and while flipping over, he lifted up his wife into a tight embracing and took her to the bathroom.

The jet of a highly pressurized water stream, running through a sophisticated shower head, hit their bodies in a way which made them want to fully experience the benefits of latest bathroom and showering technology.

Linda let her beautiful long hair get all wet and soaked, then carefully shampooed it with the natural herbal based shampoo she was using. A wave of white-bluish liquid started running on her beautiful shoulders and further down on her back, buttocks, legs.

In spite of the fact that John was shampooing himself, the site he had in front of him, made him make a move she wasn’t expecting…at least not so soon: he grabbed Linda’s hair with both his hands and swiftly plaited a nice hair tail.

-What are you doing? Linda was at least surprised by John’s latest endeavor. He was holding the hair now with a tight grip which made her tilt the head backwards, towards him. John didn’t waste a moment and this time the kisses on the side of the neck turned into soft bites…

-What are you doing? Please don’t bite! Her voice was neither demanding nor commending and John knew very well that he had her acceptance to do whatever he wanted.

Slowly, his left hand moved the hair tail out of his way, so it would eventually rest on her left breast. It was a spur of the moment. His strong arms encircled Linda’s chest section from behind and were now squeezing her breasts again, bringing the nipples together, making them “kiss” each other while his teeth were taking small “bites” off of Linda’s shoulders and neck. Once again she was moaning from pleasure, from the new erotic experience she was going through, from knowing that both of them are still so much in love with each other…

John decided to change gears and the kisses were now slowly moving onto different parts of his wife’s body while his huge hands were still tenderly caressing her shoulders, her back, her buttocks, her legs. Soon, his right hand cupped Linda’s intimate region making her release a moan of pleasure. While his left hand was gently rubbing the left hip, the buttock and the leg, his teeth were taken “bites” now from the buttocks then slowly moved down on the leg. The fact that his wife was sighing from pleasure, made John continue the game until he decided that a full contact is just the final scene of a well done prelude.

John got back on his feet and grabbed Linda’s breasts again. His latest move, made Linda tilt her head backwards once again. Her hands were now joined onto John’s neck leaving the breasts completely exposed and unprotected; John wasted no time in squeezing and playing with them.

There was no way back from this endeavor and both of them knew it.

The sexual act was again wild and loud, was meaningful, it was something to relate to; it was yet another release of passion, love and perfect understanding of the partner.

The penetration was deep and rough. She was trying hard to push him back, but her husband was in no mood of giving in. The moans and screams of pleasure released by their lungs were now covering the noise of the small water jets released by the sophisticated shower head they had mounted into the bathroom. His hands were dead locked on her hips, holding onto that grip with all the force he was capable of releasing. All his upper body muscles were strained at the maximum. His biceps, triceps, chest muscles as well as the abs were now showing their splendor through definition and size. Regular exercising and weight lifting were the key elements John was using to maintain those wonderful shapes modeled during his adolescent and youth football years.

Linda was too experienced not to understand that there was no benefit whatsoever in resisting her husband’s rampage. She slowly raised her upper body to a level that was now allowing her to grab on the two stainless rings they had mounted into the wall (for hanging shampoo bottles) on few hooks.  Her new upper body position was also allowing more water and hair lotion to drip down, along her spine and hips. A barely imperceptible smile rose on the corner of her mouth: “he will wear out soon”.

And she was right: John started panting from the effort and from the fact that he was still trying to get a tight grip on his wife’s hips. The water, the lotion and the gravity actually were all working against his plan. Slowly he loosened up; his fingers were all tired and the fore-arms felt like lead.

It was Linda’s time to impose the terms. Her new body position allowed her to dictate the amount of penetration and the rhythm.

John grabbed her breasts again, leaned his head on her spine and followed the “dance”.

There were eighteen minutes of maximum pleasure from both sides and when everything was over, it ended up in a scream of fulfillment and pleasure from both sides. Eventually John released his embrace, making Linda turn around. They kissed again, passionately and meaningfully.

-Wanna’ head for Jacuzzi?

-Of course, but let me wash my hair first. Are you going to fix us some drinks?


John pushed the sliding door of the shower compartment and without even drying himself up, put the robe on and headed for the kitchen.

He knew exactly what Linda wanted: a Mohito. “How about me? Hmm…I had wine, so I am going now for something different: how about a Martini or a Cinzano? Let’s get Linda’s drink first and then we’ll see”

With the movements of an expert bartender he grabbed a relatively narrow and deep glass, opened up the freezer, removed five cubes of ice, and threw them into the glass. From the bar, he picked the exquisite white rum they both liked and opened up the bottle. The aromas of the apricot and pear fruits coupled with the exotic scents of the mango, and papaya made John crack a smile: “Good choice! This white rum is fabulous”

He opened up the fridge again and among vegetables found what he was looking for: the mint. Grabbed a fresh plant and placed it in a way that four leaves from the top were hanging on the outside of the glass. Swiftly sliced a large lime, slit one of the slices and placed it in a way that would hold the four mint leaves in place. The rest of the slices ended up carefully placed between the ice cubes and the wall of the glass. He slowly poured the rum into the glass until almost filled. Then he raised the glass into the light and for few moments he admired his “art”. The image was enticing indeed.

“Now let’s take care of myself” and John cracked a large smile…”What do I want? Do I go for a Martini or for a Cinzano? I haven’t had a Cinzano in a while. So, this is what I am going to enjoy into the Jacuzzi”.

John rubbed his hands vigorously in a sign of delight meant to enjoy every single moment of the drink mixing and later on, the drink tasting for sure.

He once again grabbed a glass similar to the one into which he prepared the Mohito. All of a sudden he ran into another dilemma: “do I want a white or a red Cinzano? Hmm….this is the question!” He just couldn’t decide. Eventually he decided to flip a coin when another idea came into his head: “red Cinzano needs Campari so, if I have Campari, I will go for the red one. If I don’t, I will make myself a white one.”

His booze rack was large, well-stocked with all the drinks possible: from some of the fine European and South American wines to some of the best California products and from top quality Scotches, Whiskies and Bourbons to fine Vodkas and cocktail drinks.

John started through the shelves where he was keeping the cocktail drinks. “Bingo!” His face lightened up. He found a bottle of Campari. The red Cinzano was in front of his eyes as well. Quickly went back to the kitchen and grabbed the same glass size as his wife’s.

Over the ice cubes he first poured the red Cinzano and then the Campari. On the kitchen counter there were few large oranges…picked one up, washed it and sliced it the same way as he did with the lime for the Mohito.

Let two slices fall into the glass and slit another slice and placed on the top of the glass’s rim. The drinks were ready. He picked up a straw for his wife, as she was usually drinking the cocktails this way. “Now let’s head for the Jacuzzi!”

Linda was already into the Jacuzzi and had her head resting on a towel. The long blonde hair was now tightened up into a knot. She was really enjoying the constant hits of the water jets as she was almost asleep. John’s appearance made her rise her head and the site of the Mohito put a large smile on her face.

-Let’s see how well you’ve done this time, big boy! She twinkled at John, in a sign that she can only trust his bartending skills.

John dropped his head rearwards too, while finding a comfortable position where his body could be bombarded by the highly pressurized water released by the HTB jets.



Methodically, both of them took small sips from the tall glasses; they wanted to entice their bud tastes, they wanted to fully feel the aroma of those wonderfully presented cocktails. The glasses were all covered with condensation on the outside and the little drops of cold water that were dripping into the Jacuzzi only made those drinks even more appealing, wanted and desired.

The hot water jets massaging their bodies, took a toll on them. Slowly, they rested their heads rearwards on a towel and closed the eyes. It felt like heaven, it felt like living a sweet dream, a dream where no worries existed, a dream of peace and brightness, of happiness and hope.

-I need more ice in my Mohito, honey…

-Yes M’am, so do I. With a swift motion John picked up his robe and headed down stairs once again. While in the kitchen, he turned on the TV and flipped the channel to Sports. A hockey game was on. The city’s team was playing home. It was the second intermission – scoreless. “OK, at least I have something to watch after I’m done with the bath.”

He opened up the cabinets and grabbed a glass bowl. Dumped inside a full tray of ice and walked back upstairs to the bathroom. Placed the ice between them, took the robe off and entered the Jacuzzi for the second time. His core temperature quickly came back up and a total moment of relaxation embraced him again. He reached for the glass, threw inside another two ice cubes and took another sip.

-This drink is awesome!

-What are you drinking, actually?

-Campari and red Cinzano with a splash of soda.

-Nice! Maybe I should try it sometimes.

-You wouldn’t like it…it’s a bit bitter.

-Hmm…maybe I would like it – you never know.

Another few minutes passed by in a deep silence. They both went back to their initial routine, savoring the drinks with their eyes closed, while the water heads of the Jacuzzi were still throwing pressurized water at their bodies, thus doing miracles on those tensed muscles of theirs. Eventually, Linda broke the silence:

-What time is it?

-It was 8 pm when I walked back up.

-I am kinda’ hungry.

-Me too. What do you want for dinner?

-Don’t know…don’t feel like cooking. Do we do pizza?

-Sure. Order in or we throw something in the oven?

-I think we have few nice pizzas in the freezer. No point throwing money away on ordering in.

-Deal! John took his glass and sipped the last ounce of liquid he had in the glass, got out of the tub, reached for a dry towel inside of a cabinet, dried himself up, put the robe on and once again headed for the kitchen. This time the task was easy: open up the freezer and make a choice. Before doing it, he set the oven to 375. It was already a reflex which was now coming automatically. They have done this so many times before. For some reason, he couldn’t decide which pizza he would like. But then, he remembered that Linda likes thin crusts with spinach and Ricotta cheese. He started digging among the pile of boxes nicely arranged by size and finally pulled a colorful rectangular box showing a picture of a steaming hot pizza topped with tomatoes, Ricotta and baby spinach leaves.

-“Bingo” exclaimed John and with swift and precise motions he pulled the frozen dough out of the box and set it on a heat resistant glass tray, but not before spraying the bottom of the tray with oil. The temperature in the oven was about right. He shoved the tray in and closed the door. “Let’s wait now!”

He pulled a chair and leaned backwards while turning the TV back onto Hockey. The city’s team was now losing by three goals with less than ten minutes left into the game. “Oh well…just another disappointment, I guess”. The kitchen was now filled with the smell of baking dough, a smell that would drive insane even a monk. His stomach was growling and the nostrils were fully dilated letting in those primary scents to which no human being could resist: the scents of freshly baked bread and crisp hot crust, the scents of melting light cheese and cooked tomatoes. “Not ready yet…few more minutes and then we will turn it to broil”.  It was not uncommon for John to make a statement about himself using the plural, but when he was cooking he always had the impression that there is somebody else in the kitchen watching him, giving advice and guidance, ultimately making sure that the food is up to the par.

“… and scores!” The commentator’s scream made John turn around: his team scored a goal. His face brightened up and now he wanted to watch the replay. “Good job, guys. Shorthanded goal!” The exclamation that came out of his chest was so loud that Linda could actually hear it from the bathroom.

“He is watching Hockey! Pizza should be ready by now” The thought of a well baked thin crust pizza was enough for her to hurry and dry herself up. The smell of the baked dough made her mouth-watering instantly.

-What’s the score?

John was a little surprised to see his wife in the kitchen, but he was already so excited about a possible come back of the city’s team, that he didn’t answer.

-What’s happening, what’s the score, John?

-We just scored, we are still two down…common guys, last push!

There were three minutes left and the team was attacking with the defenders at the red line. Now they were no longer shorthanded. John completely forgot about pizza. Linda realized that she has to take charge. Opened up the oven and took the pizza out resting it on the door. “Great, it just needs a broil and we can eat”. She switched the oven to broil and closed the door. “One more minute and it’s done!”

In the meantime, John was glued to the screen: there were three more minutes to go when the coach called a time out.

-He’s gotta’ pull the goalie out now and get in another attacker!

-He can’t do it right away. Maybe when there are two minutes left.

-We need to score twice, Linda!

-Too risky! I believe he should wait a bit.

John negatively shook his head in a sign that he did not agree with his wife at all. He was all in – all or nothing. This is the way he played Football: never hold back from making a big decision, always stick with the decision you made and always be ready to take responsibility for whatever the outcome might be.

-You’ll see that I am right.

-We have a face off in their territory and we have one of the best face off takers in the League! It is only normal to play like this.

-I guess we will see in few seconds, said Linda while pulling the pizza out of the oven. The kitchen filled up with a smell that made both of them deeply inhale and then noisily release the air. She grabbed the pizza slicer and skillfully cut it in six slices. It was too hot to start eating, so she pulled a chair and started watching the last three minutes of a game which looked like it will be a nail biter.

-See? I told you that he will have the goalie in the net at the start! Linda was jubilating, as her intuition was shared by the coach.

-This coach has no guts, exclaimed John with a voice full of disappointment and pushed away the chair he was resting his legs onto.

The game started again and as John predicted, their team cleanly won the face off.

-What did I say? Now we could’ve had one more forward on the ice!

-We still have the puck. Sit down John…

The opposing team was defending very aggressively and was leaving no space in the neutral zone for maneuvering.

-See? Now they have to dump the puck and get into scraps along the boards. John made a sign of disgust with his right arm and took a sit again, almost accepting that this game is lost.

The coach finally pulled the goalie. There were ninety seconds left into the game. Another forward stepped onto the ice and the battles along the boards became more and more aggressive. The pace at which these last ninety seconds of the game was played at, was brutal. The players could barely breathe anymore from the effort. A shot from the point was taken and the player in front of the net deflected the puck into the net.

-Goooal! John’s lungs released again a yell of satisfaction at least as loud as the first one. Common: one more, boys!

– I told you that this is not a bad strategy, exclaimed Linda as well!

-I still believe he should’ve pulled the goalie immediately after the timeout…we now only have 30 more seconds to tie this game.

This time the opposing team’s coach called the timeout.

-OK, let’s eat! John grabbed a couple of plates from the cabinet and put two slices onto his wife’s plate and two onto his. Almost the same ritual as the wine tasting followed: deep inhaling, eye closing and brain’s feedback waiting. “Awesome!”

They both started eating while their eyes were glued to the TV.

-Alright, they are back on the ice. Let’s go guys! Let’s go!

The game started again with a face off, won again by the home team. The net was empty…one defender from the visitors makes an interception, the puck wobbles, one player from the hosting team challenges the defender and in order to save a shot on empty net, trips the opponent. Penalty! Two minutes minor…the home team is now shorthanded again and must score to tie the game.

-It’s over; we lost, said Linda with a deeply disappointed voice.

-Not yet, reply John with a tonality he used probably thousands of times during his football career. The game is only over when the final whistle is blown. Common guys: this is the time when men are separated from the boys! Common! He was not sitting anymore; he was walking throughout the kitchen with the pizza slice in his hand. This game must’ve brought back memories, must’ve brought back in his mind that Championship game when he threw that last winning pass with seven seconds to go.

The game starts again with a face off, won again by John’s team; but now, they were one man short. For some reason the opposing team was sitting back trying to defend the lead.

-They are defending; they are scared; they don’t want to take any chance! This is our chance, exclaimed John with a thundering voice that made Linda startle.

-Shoot the puck and get another face off! Amazingly, the player who had the puck made a shot attempt on the net – it was like he heard John screaming. The goalie made the stop and a face off was called.

-Call a timeout! Call a timeout, screamed John at the TV, obviously yelling at the coach.

-And the host team is calling the last time out, folks…what a game we have on hand! Unbelievable turn of events, folks, unbelievable! The Commentator was showing a maximum level of excitement and his voice was already showing signs that it would eventually give up on him if  he kept the decibels at the same level.

-I hope that at least now, he will have the guts to have on the ice a whole attacking team, said John and he reached for the second slice.

-You see? He did the right thing. Now he will have the best attackers on the ice, mentioned Linda.

John shook his head again and smiled at his wife.

-What? The coach is following the right strategy…my strategy, said Linda and a big laughter came out of her chest. John joined in and for few seconds they forgot about the game and loudly laughed together.

-Yes Linda, you are an amazing strategist!

-You can take that to the bank, baby!

Another laughter burst out of their chests making them forget about the game and pizza, in spite of the fact that both of them were hungry and the food was releasing aromas nobody could resist; they took their time to finish the amusement.

-Here we go folks, here we go! Last thirty seconds of the game. The home team is one man short and it must score to tie the game.

Both of them already had their eyes glued at the TV.

-Common! One more goal, guys!

-You were right: we only have attackers on the ice!

John looked at Linda and a barely imperceptible smile of superiority flourished in the corner of his mouth.

-Don’t give me that! I know the stuff too!

-Of course you do…did I say that you didn’t know what Hockey is about?

Linda suspiciously looked at her husband; a smile showed up on her lips knowing how competitive John was.

Face off was cleanly won by the host team, but they were still one man short. The advantage of having attackers on the ice was that you could throw more skill against a team that only has one thing in mind: defend at any costs. John was standing, with his hands dead locked on the chair’s seat back. He was virtually living at the maximum intensity every single second of the game.

-Unbelievable save, ladies and gentlemen! Unbelievable! Fantastic puck movement for the home team, in spite of the fact that they are numerically inferior. What a save by the goalie! What a save! And we have now a face off again into the visitor’s territory….what a save! Eighteen seconds to go and the host team has been attacking over and over again. This is what you call playing with desperation until the last second of the game! Face off, folks…probably the last chance the home team has got. They are one man short and they must score. Let’s watch what is coming out of this face off…the referee drops the puck, both players are engaging, the home team wins again the puck, they are passing, unfortunately they dearly miss the player suspended as they are now thinly spread across the ice. The puck is still with the home team, there are ten seconds to go, folks and they must shoot the puck! One man is getting in front of the goalie, a shooting attempt from the blue line again…Gooal! Gooal! The player in front of the net redirects the puck and tricks the goalie once again! Incredible turn of events, folks! Incredible! Absolutely fantastic! There was so much determination and wits and guts into the way this team played! Unbelievable! With seven seconds to go, we have a tie game on our hands…incredible, absolutely incredible!

John was not sitting anymore. He was walking throughout the kitchen speaking to himself like a mad man. The intensity and the drama exhibited by this game made him live that end to the fullest. In spite of all those years which passed by (since his Football career came to a brutal end), he simply couldn’t just sit and relax when such a drama was displayed in front of him. Any game of this intensity and magnitude would make him jump off his chair, get involved and give advises related to tactics and strategy.

Linda was calmly sitting at the table, enjoying the pizza and a cold beer she pulled out from the fridge. She opened up another beer for John, but at that moment he was too busy figuring out strategies for the overtime period.

A large smile flourished on Linda’s face watching her husband walking through the kitchen and giving the coach advises. She was simply happy to watch a fantastic game and more than everything she was happy that the first day of the weekend ends up on a really high note.

The referee dropped the puck and without knowing it, the two face off players decide to drop the gloves and a fight broke up.

-We have a fight ladies and gentlemen, we have a fight! This game couldn’t have ended up better than this!

John was glued to the TV and the last event just made him get even more pumped up.

-Common! Hold the left hand higher, man! Now, go for it! Go for it! His player was doing pretty well throwing punch after punch. Both of the fighters exchanged heavy blows to the face and to the body. They eventually tired out and dropped on the ice, making two referees jump on top of them and eventually put an end to the fight.

-This was a heck of a game, folks; a heck of a game! We’ll catch up after the break for the overtime.

-It really was a heck of game, exclaimed John while taking a seat and grabbing his beer. The pizza was gone and now he could enjoy a nice cold beer while waiting for the game to start up again.

-Yeah, it was so dramatic!

-Unbelievable! I never would’ve thought that they would be capable of coming back. They were losing by three goals at one moment and they made it! This is called character.

-And they were shorthanded!

-Right, they were!

-How long into the overtime they will still play one man less?

-I think only twenty seconds or so.

-That’s not much. They have to defend until they get back at full strength.

-Here, I have to agree with you, coach! John cracked a large smile while Linda pointed a finger at him:

-Don’t be sarcastic; I could be a good coach.

-I never said you wouldn’t.

They both burst into laughing and the evening couldn’t have been more enjoyable.

-Ready for another one?

-I’m ok, John. Thanks. One is good enough.

-I will open up one more and in this case I will have it by myself.

-Enjoy! Hey, your eye is getting better. The swell backed off pretty well. Let me get you an ice pack to put on that eye. Linda opened up the freezer and pulled a gel pack. Here, put it on…

John grabbed the ice pack and tightened the strap behind his head. The low temperature of the gel pack made the spasms go away.

-Alright, let’s see what sort of surprises this game still has for us.

-Ladies and gentlemen we are back for the overtime. The score is three apiece and the host team will be shorthanded for eighteen seconds. The announcer was at least as excited as John was.

-Common guys, you can do it! John picked up a chair and turned it 180 degrees so now he was resting his hands on the chair’s backrest. He grabbed the beer, took another sip and put the bottle back on the table.

-The puck was dropped folks and the visitor team has the possession. There is a good puck movement into the neutral zone. The puck is dumped behind the net, two players are fighting along the boards; one player from the visitor team has now the possession into the home team’s territory. There are seven seconds left into the host team’s penalty and they will be back even on the ice…the puck is now passed to the point, a player takes the shot and…scores! Unbelievable! The visitors managed to secure a hard fought victory! Only seven seconds were left into the penalty and both teams would’ve been at full strength. What a game, ladies and gents! What a game! All the respect for the host team, though. They fought hard and came back from a three goal deficit to take this game into overtime. But the penalties they took, simply killed them. They sat on the bench way too much, putting an extra pressure on the players who were on the ice. Nevertheless, we had the pleasure to watch a game to remember, a game fought with heart and determination. Congratulations to both teams and let’s go now upstairs for comments from the studio.

John dropped his head and shook it left to right in a sign of big disappointment.

-It was so close, it was at their fingertips; they had the moral advantage as they were coming from behind and managed to tie the game…

-Well, at least they fought hard and gave it all they had.

-That’s not enough, Linda. Not enough. The final score on the board is the only thing that matters. The fact that they played well for ten minutes throughout the whole game is not going to cut it.

-Oh, common! Give them some credit!

-I am, but at the end of the day they have an “L” in front of them. There is only one thing that matters: final score. You either lose or win.

-Why everything with you is about winning?

-Because this is what I do, Linda…this is what I do: I win.

-Alright, wanna’ watch a movie? Linda was already heading towards the living room. She grabbed the remote, turned the TV on and flipped to the movie network.

John was still in the kitchen with the beer in his hand watching the sports analysts dissecting the game that just put a dampener on a great Saturday he was having.

“What a bummer! We had them cornered! We had them in the leash! We just had to defend for eighteen seconds til’ we would’ve been numerically even. Oh well…I hope they learnt something from this game”.

He flipped the channel back to “Money Channel”…nothing new. Same stuff he watched earlier was now replayed. Switched back to sports…another game was now starting and John decided to stick around for a while and not go watch movies. After fifteen minutes (as the game was a bore) he turned the TV off, switch off the light in the kitchen and headed for the living room. Linda was laying on the couch and resting her head on the pillow while she was watching a movie.

-Which movie are you watching?

There was no answer coming from that direction, so John decided to ask the question a little louder. Still no answer…he approached the couch and realized that his wife was deeply sleeping. Initially he simply considered letting her sleep on the couch. He grabbed the blanket and was ready to cover her with it, but he reconsidered. Carefully took his wife into his arms and once again he walked those stairs up to the master bedroom. He removed the covers, placed Linda onto her place and pulled the thick blanket (she was always using), all the way to her chin. She was sleeping so tight, that she didn’t even feel the change. John went again downstairs and locked the doors, set the alarm then for the last time that day took the stairs to the bedroom and got into the bed as well.

“It was a good day after all…a good day”. Shortly after, he fell asleep too.


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