Simon had just come back home, he drops his grimy gear by the door and takes a seat on the couch, kicking his boots up onto the coffee table. A fatigued sigh slips past his chapped lips as he pulls the sweaty balaclava off of his head.

“Get me a beer,” he commands, your husband was gone for months, and the first sentence isn’t i missed you or i love you but rather a command.

Simon holds his hand out, waiting impatiently as he tapped his leather boot against the glass table top.