Midnight Suspense

By Stephanie

I hear my husband arriving home, garage door squeaking. Hurried footsteps head to the kitchen, followed by sounds of cupboards opening and shutting.

“Nothing!” he groans, exasperated.

His footsteps turn heavy, coming up the stairs. The door to our room creaks. His shadow blankets the bed until he looms over me, hand outstretched.

“My order history’s deleted. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow,” I grab his hand away from my phone where it sits on the nightstand.

“But it’s 12:00 already,” he whines.

I sit up, pecking his lip. “Happy Birthday, Hon. Now come to bed! You do this every year!”