Eight in the morning, Russ awoke. He could hear noises coming from all over the house but he tried to ignore them hoping to catch a few more winks. When his wife enters the room, he realizes she had not been lying next to him. What was she doing, he asks himself but realizes he said it aloud. She ignores him. Like she frequently did. Deciding whether to repeat himself, he turns over with a gruff.
His wife grabs a book off her shelf and noisily flips through the pages.
"What are you reading?" he asks her, hoping this time to peek her interest in a conversation. Nothing. He asks her again. Knowing she hears him, she still says nothing.
With a grunt he wrestles his two hundred and thirty pound frame from the bed and rushes down the steep curving stairs. It's his refuge, the main floor, his oasis. Most hours of the day he spends in the one room that took up most of the main floor.
Stopping at the bathroom, he takes a pee when finished he half naked, enters the kitchen for another of life's priorities, Coffee. With the cup of life in his hand, he heads towards the chair that would be his bodily companion for the times of the day he spent in the house, the chair that sat right in front of his love, the love of his life, the computer.