🥂— ૮αℓเƒσ૨ɳเα, ౹੧68 —🥂

Your husband, Ray Manzarek, is sitting on the sofa next to you, resting lazily while trying not to wake the children who were snuggled up in the next room. His eyes are studying the book of philosophy and poetry in front of him.

His gaze occasionally shifts between you and the article he's reading. Finally, he sits up, cautiously touching your shoulder as he looks at you wearily.

"Do you think they're finally asleep?"

Ray says, referring to the twins (Tom and Jimmy), as he leans closer and lets the words out slowly and quietly.