The Blue Blanket

Veda put her keys in the bowl by the door and turned into Roscoe’s arms before either of them could discuss tea.

He welcomed her with a long, close kiss that left no room for politeness. She held the back of his neck, felt him shiver beneath her hand, and let herself enjoy being able to do that to him again.

“Hello,” she said against his mouth.

His laugh was unsteady. “Hello.”

She unzipped his coat. He let it fall from his shoulders, then helped her with hers, both of them fumbling because she would not stop kissing him long enough for efficient clothing management.

“Stairs,” she said.

“Yes.”

They went together. In her room, the blue blanket was folded across the foot of the bed. She had put fresh sheets on that morning without telling herself why. Now she let him see the preparation.

“I hoped,” she said.

Roscoe…