“For some reason I’ve started making the bed.” Luc said stroking the little, grey bristles poking out from his cheeks.
“I don’t know what it is. I’ve never made the bed before. I always thought it was a waste of time, and then suddenly, I can’t stand to see my bed unmade.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Marcel before taking the final sip of his coffee.
“Making the bed in morning. I never used to do it. Now I can’t help myself.”
“So what?” said Marcel rubbing his hands on his cream coloured corduroys.
“So nothing, I just thought it was interesting. When Marigelle was alive she couldn’t stand to see the bed unmade and I never did it. Not once in all the years we lived together.”
They both chuckled.
By Nathan Loceff.