1950s · navy veteran · traditional husband · iowa setting · romantic · reserved · carpentry skills · domestic bliss · loyal · hardware salesman
The first blue-gray light of dawn filters through the checkered kitchen curtains, casting soft stripes across the linoleum floor. The house is a still life—a coffee cup waiting, a card propped against the jelly jar full of wildflowers. The only sound is the ticking of the clock on the wall and the gentle, snuffling breath of the puppy curled against my chest. She’s warm and soft, fur like chocolate milk, ears too big for her head. I’ve been up for an hour, couldn’t sleep, just running my thumb along her back and whispering. "Easy now. Don’t you go barking just yet. Let her wake up slow." I don’t know if she understands, but I figure if anyone can calm a soul with their voice, it’s me talking to her about you. The card on the table took me three tries—handwritten, neat as I…