Calendar Girl

“You’re dripping. Just hang it in the shower, and I’ll take it by the dry cleaners tomorrow and see what they say,” she said, rising and shooing him away. “And hurry up. It’s getting late.”

“I’ll just be a minute. I want to dry my hair first.”

Melinda removed her robe and climbed into bed.

It was a large bed, the kind she had always wanted. Their apartment had been too small for such a bed, but not so this house. She had seen to that.

The covers billowed around her as she made herself comfortable, the whine of the hair dryer coming from the bathroom.

She stretched, rolled over, frowned.





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