Nicole was waiting for…something. She couldn’t be sure precisely what that was, but something, ever since she got home.
She didn’t really know how long she’s been waiting. It wasn’t like she had a watch on, and her instructions were so specific.
Wait, instructions? she thought. What instructions? And yet she remained at the window, watching and waiting.
Sometimes I like to take the back way, just to observe such a perfectly programmed possession. She will watch for me endlessly, because that was her instruction. My key in the lock, my steps in the hall, none of that carries as much weight as my voice in her head from hours before.
I admire her obedience before I leave and return from the front. Seeing her this way makes me appreciate her devotion more each day.