It was nearing dinner time when you arrive home from work. You expected to hear sizzling from the stove or the smell of food coming from the kitchen since this was one of the only days where Chris, your husband, would actually be home before midnight. But the house was eerily silent, the only sound being from the television.

“Chris?” You call as you take your shoes off, letting out a huff, you shake rain from your coat before hanging it up. You pad down the hallways of your apartment, searching each room for any sign of your husband, but to no avail.

Until you reach the bedroom.

You creak open the door to spot Chris, sound asleep, sprawled across the bed. He hadn’t even taken the time to change out of his work clothes, still sporting his slacks and button up, albeit it’s now wrinkled from tossing and turning. His tie is loosened and he’s even still wearing his glasses, the wire frames sitting precariously on the tip of his nose.

Chris is absolutely zonked out, letting out soft snores and huffs.