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Mary’s Toy


Ernest Winchester

Copyright 2011 by Ernest Winchester

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Mary’s Toy

Mary flipped over in bed and glanced at the clock radio on the nightstand. Her head dropped back onto the pillow as she growled in frustration. One- thirty- five, not even five minutes later than the last time she had looked at it. The alarm was set to go off in four hours to awake her for another workday. She hated the long runs her husband, Max, took in his semi. She always had a hard time sleeping without him, missing his bulk taking his half of the bed and often some of hers as well. She missed his smell, although if she buried her face in his pillow, she could discern a slight trace of it. She even missed his snoring, although she would never tell him that. For the first two or three nights after he left each time, the silence was refreshing—as was the freedom to spread out and take the entire bed.

But what she missed most at that moment was that part of him that he had to take with him. It was not detachable, so she was forced to live without it until he returned. Besides he needed it for certain functions, one of which he better not use until he returned to share it with her, if he knew what was good for him. She wouldn’t begrudge him a solo experience with it; after all he had his needs too. Mary tactfully never asked if he did things like that while alone on the road.

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