She was taking articles out of the washing machine.
One or two of them were his. She inspected them carefully. He’d always had some funny ways. Some of them had bothered her at first. There had always seemed to be a forceful yearning inside of him that he was unable to control. She thought about how the late night wanderings had tapered off over the years. He still did it from time to time. He’d be in bed, next to her, waiting for her deep breathing or possibly snoring to indicate that she’d gone to sleep. Not that she ever was. She found the snoring quite difficult to fake, so she kept those times to a minimum. Then he’d slide out of bed silently and disappear from the room.
It was strange how they never talked about it. Never brought up the subject of his going out into the dead of night. Never a word about his climbing back into bed during the early hours. As a wife, and as someone who loved him dearly, regardless, she felt she had managed to do rather well. If nothing else she was loyal.
She held things up to the light again, smiling.
Bloodstains all gone.
She glanced out of the window.
Good day for drying, she thought.