He opens the door and darts inside before much rain gets inside, then closes the door as quietly as he can. He doesn’t want to wake her.
Squilp. Squilp. Squilp. Groan.
He takes off his shoes and hangs them to dry.
Shiver. Pad. Pad. Pad. Pad. Preek.
Oh, the darned stairs. How many times has he put off fixing those?
Preek. Preeeeeeeeek. Preeeek.
He waves a fist to threaten the steps.
Prek. Prek. Prek. Preeeeeeeek.
On the verge of swearing, he notices a light. The door’s ajar, and a lamp’s on in his room.
Preeeek. Creep, creep, creep.
He pauses in the doorway. He smiles.
She’d fallen asleep waiting. There’s a Danielle Steel open across her chest.
Pad. Pad, pad pad. Click.
Out goes the light as he slides under the covers next to her.
“Good night, Maya.”
And so he joins her snoring.