Sassafras woke with a start, upright practically before she even broke out of her slumber.
“Babbehs!?”
She was like a kid on Christmas. She knew she remembered a whole commotion last night, and thinking that she was having the biggest poopies. She remembered having her babies! But what if all along she had only dreamt about the babies? But the frantic sound of her babies protesting their sudden upheaval with loud chirps and peeps told her she hadn’t!
The babies were here at last!
And they were all hers.
Sassafras grinned practically ear-to-ear and cooed in delight at her brand new little family. After some effort she was able to hoist her chubby, squat body in a sitting position. She was still recovering from her pregnancy and birth and those factors made the challenge of sitting up even harder on her remaining leggies. The mother mare had made fairly quick work of successfully getting up onto her butt. She sat with her long, soft tail still encircling the little shifting mound of velvety beanbags that peeped and cheeped away in her bed.
The beaming new mummah took inventory of her babies with glee. Five and two was just so many babies! They were so fresh, and so small, and they all smelled so, so good. Sassafras just knew that she was the luckiest mare in the history of the whole everything! She had to be!
The peachy-pink nyu-mummah reached out with one leathery hoof and carefully selected the first two babbehs to take their breakfast milkies. She was such a good mummah!
First, she scooped the tiny orange fluffy foal from the pile, causing him to elicit a nervous series of chirps.
“Am otay, widdew babbeh. Am yu mummah~! Nebbah gonna gib huwties ow saddies. Nebbah, ebbah…”
The citrus-coloured colt’s newborn mind didn’t quite register what any of these sounds meant, but thanks to his programming his tiny brain already had in it a full dictionary of vocabulary stored for the not-so-distant future. Like a little sponge it soaked up the sound of Mummah’s words eagerly, thirsty to learn how to communicate. He didn’t consciously know what it all meant yet, but what he did know was that it was good. It was comforting. It was safe.
Home.
A second foal, the tiny lavender filly, was eased toward Sassafras’ available teat. Her orange older brother was already diligently pumping a fatty, sweet-tasting breakfast forth from mummah’s warm milkie place. Sassfras watched both foals knead at the soft pale skin of her milkie places with the delicate pads of their tiny hoofsies. It filled her with a feeling of warm fuzziness like she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.
After he was done with his feeding, her orange colt released himself with an audible ‘pop!’ before peeping at Sassafras as if to ask his mummah if she was proud of him. She giggled and smiled, saying, “Gud boy, ah-wenge babbeh!” Then she noticed that her little purple-tinted daughter had actually fallen back asleep while nursing. No longer suckling, she snoozed with her lips still wrapped loosely around Sassafras’ nipple and her tiny front leggies barely holding on as she slumped.
“S-siwwy babbeh,” Sassafras choked out with a smile. A small tear formed in her eye. “Widdew-est babbeh am stiww sweepy?” Her heart could have absolutely melted.
Sassafras took a while to manage but was able to replace her milk-bloated pastel purple babbeh with the red colt who had been impatiently waiting. After getting her red son situated on one side, she clumsily nudged the orange colt aside to accommodate the grey baby next. The orange boy peeped and grunted, blindly flailing his little limbs as he was pushed and smooshed around to make room for another baby. He wanted more miwkies time with mummah!
The second pair of babies were now well into their morning meal, and they didn’t need any help to drink so Sassafras didn’t pay them any mind. What really had her attention was the little lavendar filly that was now laying snuggled into her soft and shaggy belly fluff. The foal’s misty purple peachfuzz stood out noticeably against the tufts of light orangey-pink fur that surrounded her.
“Oh, widdew-est puh-puw babbeh,” Sassafras whispered to her foal, “Mummah memba when you fiwst come out ob Mummah’s tummy…” Sassafras took her one front hoof and moved it up toward the snoozing baby fluffy. A leathery-padded toe brushed with feather-light softness against the delicate little flap that was her babbeh’s left ear. Lifting it with the utmost care, she felt its soft paper-thin skin before bringing her big hoofsie downward to brush so tenderly against the tiny cheek just below.
“Babbeh,” she continued, “Yu am su funny. Wook at yu widdew heaw-pwacies. Suu tiny an’ gud fow touchies…” The baby was now roused from its just-fed slumber and reached up to grab the mother fluffy’s one leathery hoofsie with both of her much-much-smaller ones. “An’ widdew-est puh-puw babbeh hab suuuu teeny, tiny widdew hoofsies~♡”
Sassafras was careful not to disturb the lavendar-coloured foal, now awake but still resting on her belly, when she did another milkie-place baby switch-off. As before, the babies that had had their fill of milkies were haphazardly nudged out of the way to make it easier for the one-armed Sassafras to maneuver them about and replace them with the babies who still had tummy-owies.
She just laid back, supported by the corner junction of the wall behind her bed. She relaxed and watched them while they finished up their turn, before finally feeding her lastest tummy-hurties baby. The little white colt with the black patches around his closed eyes was the last to be fed. The black-and-white colt had actually waited rather patiently (for a hungry chirpy). He only peeped on occasion to petition Sassafras for milkies. He was calmed and comforted by the peeps of his fellow babbehs and the soothing voice he understood to belong to his provider.
Once all of the babies were fed, they laid all together in a drowsy fluff pile beside Sassafras. Her milkie places were absolutely drained from accommodating seven whole babies. For a second she was almost afraid her white son wouldn’t get any milkies at all, since his turn came after so many other hungry babies! But he definitely got a little, so it all worked out alright.
What was really important to Sassafras now was watching her pastel purple baby sleep. Sassafras recalled with fondness the feeling of giving the little filly her first ever licky-cleanies. She looked at the tiny smile that played on her littlest babbeh’s lips. Was her fuzzy purple daughter seeing good sleep pictures? The idea that her babies had no concept of ‘seeing,’ or, ‘pictures,’ yet didn’t occur to Sassafras.
Maybe her baby was dreaming about getting Mummah’s lickie-cleanies. The lavendar baby had been Sassafras’ final child to emerge when they’d been born. She had not only been the last baby Sassafras pushed out before the hurties stopped, but also the littlest of them all. And little lavendar baby had been the only one Sassafras had been able to give her own first licky-cleanies to (due to the skillful and quick hands of Daddeh).
Sassafras’ dreamy gaze was interrupted when she was startled by the distinctive CLOMP! CLOMP! of Daddeh’s big heavy work boots on the saferoom’s hardwood floor. He always made sure not to dirty any of the room’s colourful area rugs, which he accomplished by stepping carefully between them. He walked toward the corner that contained the fluffy bed, eyeing the fat little lavendar ball of peachfuzz resting on his fluffy mare’s belly.
“Good morning, Sassy. And what’s this?”
“Dis am mummah’s widdew puh-puw chiwpie babbeh, siwwy! Daddeh membah widdew puh-puw babbeh.”
“I know what that is. I’m asking why is this,” he said while gesturing with a finger to the single baby that rested in Sassafras’s fluff rather than beside her in bed, “happening? Why is your purple baby alone with you, and not snuggling up with the other ones, Sassy? Is there something wrong with her?”
“Uhh…” Sassafras noticed that Daddeh sounded grumpy. Why? “Weww, eh… Sassa-fass was jus’ wookin’ at Babbeh, an’ fink um… Hmm… Meb-bee, it jus’ be bettah if dis one widdew babbeh stay cwosew to Mummah…?”
The other babies looked rotund and they were sleeping peacefully in their baby fluff pile. He could tell she’d at least been good about feeding them. Tim had heard a lot about the trials and tribulations of raising fluffy foals, from both his friends and his customers alike. One thing he always remembered being warned about after Sassafras got pregnant was her having a, “bestest babbeh.” He’d heard that when there’s a bestest, the mother often neglects her other offspring in favour of that one baby. And he was warned that sometimes, the bestest would develop something they called, ‘Smarty Syndrome,’ and be utterly ruined for life as a potential companion, breeder, or helper. The only solutions to Smarty Syndrome for the owner were euthanasia, or (less-responsibly) abandonment in the wild. Tim recalled skimming an article in the paper about some procedure that could “cure,” Smarty Syndrome, but in reality the “sophisticated operation,” equated to a vet doing little more than lobotomizing the fluffy and leaving it a shell of its former self.
The hard-working man took no bullshit, and he was gonna nip any of that ‘Bestest Babbeh,’ shit right in the bud.
Sassafras’s gaze followed Tim’s face downward as he squatted beside the bed and thoroughly examined his new charges for the first time. He took note that the orange-cream, lavendar, and grey babies were all pegasi. The light-red colt was the single unicorn. The sky blue colt and the pink-and-white filly were both earthie fluffies. Tim squinted at the last foal. It was the little white pegasus male with the patched eyes. He wasn’t quite sure if what he thought he saw, was what he really saw. He reached down and decided to establish the facts by brushing the pad of one gruff thumb lightly over the small fluffy’s fragile forehead.
A tiny bump.
He’d heard quite enough about this, too. Thankfully, under some friendly advice he had gotten her started early with things like “Babies! The Alicorn Special,” and “The Good Mummah Show.”
“Sassy, girl. How do you feel about your babies?” He kept brushing his thumb idly over the budding horn.
“Sassafas wub babbehs! Wub babbehs su, suu much! Wanna do ebewyting wiff babbehs. Mummah wanna watch Fwuff TeeBee wiff babehs, an’ do bubbwy baff wiff babbehs, an’ pway wiff babbehs ou’side in da gwassies, an–”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got all that before. You haven’t shut up about all that since the day ya made 'em.” She had gone instantly quiet when she was cut off abruptly by her daddy. “I mean,” he restarted, “Do you have any… hm… Opinions about each of the babies?”
“'Pin-yuns?” Sassafras frowned. “What am ‘pin-yuns?’ Dat someting wike un-yums? Cause, Sassa-fass nu fink dat Mummah’s widdew babbehs wike un-yums…”
God, was she ever stupid.
“No. An ‘opinion,’ is what you call the feeling you get in your thinky-place when you’re thinking about how something’s good, or maybe about how something’s bad. Or like the feeling of thinking something is really fun, or that it’s boring instead. Do you think you get it?”
“Umm… Sassa-fass fink unnastan.” She placed her hoofsie up against her chin in thought. An Sassa-fass un-yum am… Aww babbehs am gud babbehs!"
Okay. So her stupidity could be endearing sometimes.
“Okay, that’s good to hear, Sassafras. Just make sure you show all of your babies your love and attention. Equally. I don’t wanna see you shirking off caring for even one of them. It’s not their fault they’re here right now.”
Sassafras took no notice to the slight hinting tone in her master’s voice. She was too consumed with slowly petting her babies’ snoozing heads and round bellies with the pad of her front hoof.
Dinnertime came following a happy but overall uneventful day, and the sun was setting over the distant fields and hills. Tim was rummaging though the cabinet above the counter in the kitchen. He read the labels and shifted the cans around.
Sassafras waited nearby humming a Mummah song and sitting up beside a small whicker basket that was packed full of her wriggling young. She looked into the basket and cooed and fussed and made kissy sounds toward the babies. In response, the foals cheeped and chirped contentedly. Living in Daddeh’s housie meant they were safe, and warm, and that they never had to want for milkies. And they were about to recieve the best milkies ever because Sassafras was going to have sketties!
“Sassafras, what are you in the mood for?”
This was it! Sketti time!
“Sketties, pwease, Daddeh!” She grinned and stared up at Tim with wide eyes.
“Gotcha,” said Tim, in a dismissive tone that went right over Sassafras’s empty head. He grabbed a can of sketti-flavoured fluffy food and as usual the ugly gelatinized loaf escaped the can and landed in her bowl with a short, disgusting THUNK!
Sassafras knew that familiar thunk. She grimaced and for just a moment, she glared up at her daddy and stared daggers into his back.
“Siwwy, Daddeh. H-how am Daddeh gonna make sketties wiffout aww da sketti stuff? Whewe am big shine-ee pot? Whewe am da saucies, an’ da chee-zee spwinkwies?”
“Huh? Oh. You’re not having actual spaghetti tonight. You know it isn’t sketti night. But, c’mon. This is just as good!” Tim took a fork and used the prongs to grind up the gelatinous can-shaped hunk until it became a loose dull-ed mound. Small elbow noodles dotted the pile here and there, along with the occasional squishy pea or crumb of mushroom. He crouched down and placed it on the mat in front of his disgruntled-looking fluffy. She furrowed her brows.
“Daddeh, Mummah wan sketties!” Sassafras pinned her ears back and puffed her cheeks up. “Mummah nee’ weaw sketties, su can make bestest miwkies an’ be bestest mummah!”
“Sassafras, you’d better stop with the attitude,” interjected Tim.
“Nu habbin atta-tood! Sassa-fass say ‘pwease,’ befow, and Daddeh nu gib Sassa-fass sketties wike ask fow. Nu faiw!”
“Sassy, you know better. Just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you always get what you want. You’re too grown-up to act like a little foal.” Tim kept his cool. He crossed his arms and looked down at her. In that moment, he was disgusted. When had she become so entitled?
“Nu can be bestest mummah fow babbehs an’ gib bestest miwkies, if Mummah num icky, nu-smeww-pwetty nummies…”
“Now you’re just being an idiot, Sassafras. I know you’re too dumb to understand nutrition, but this food is not only delicious but it also has all the vitamins and minerals a baby fluffy needs.” Tim took the empty can and showed it to Sassafras.
He pointed to a stylized cartoon Fluffy emblazoned on the label who was yelling, “Packed wiff fwavuh, an’ seben key bite-amins and minna-wews!”
“Sassa-fass nu can wead dat, Daddeh. An’ anyway, Sassa-fass nu cawe bout wa some dummeh fwuffy in pic-ta tink! Bestest widdew babbehs nee’ bestest nummies, ow nu gwow up big an stwong!”
“You know, Sassy. They also won’t grow up big and strong if they get no milkies at all,” said the man coldly to the fluffy. He wasn’t going to fly off the handle at her over something so stupid, no matter how tempted he was deep down. But he was serious.
“Wha? Wha Daddeh mean abou’ babbehs nu gettin’ miwkies at aww?” she asked.
“I mean, if you don’t eat dinner then you won’t make any more milk. And this is all the food you’ll be getting,” he replied. Sassafras shifted her gaze from Daddy, to her precious peeping babies in the basket beside her, then down to the loose pile of matter that was slowly spreading out from the center of her bowl. Tim continued, “Eat it. Or don’t. Honestly, whatever. But you’re not getting sketties or anything else tonight, besides that. So unless you want your babies to have the all-night tummy-hurties, you’d better make your choice.” Tim wasn’t bullshitting around.
“Hnngh… Huu-huuu… Otay… Mummah wiww hab wowstest nummies an’ gib wowstest miwkies tu babbehs… Huu-huuu…” Sassafras bowed her head to take some of the fluffy chow into her mouth. She made a show of how disgusted she was by it as she slurped it down. It required no chewing.
‘What a fucking drama queen,’ thought the exasperated fluffy owner.
“Daddeh am meanie, an’ dummeh…” muttered Sassafras to herself between sloppy bites of vaguely sketti-flavoured mush. “Daddeh nu unnastan bein’ a mummah…”
Tim did the dishes at the sink across the kitchen from Sassafras and paid no mind to her muttering or to the the grotesque sound of her taking big gloppy mouthfuls of “pasta product,” into her mouth. When she called out to him that she had finished, Daddy approached the fluffies ans gathered up her empty bowl. He made it seem as if he were going to bring it over to wash. But Sassafras was caught off guard as his eyes met hers.
“Sassafras,” Tim began while looking flatly into her eyes, “Just so you know: Sketti night is cancelled for the next two weeks. For your tantrum.” His adult fluffy’s jaw fell slack with shock and dismay.
“Nu faiw! Nu faiw! Nu faiw!!” Tears tumbled down her face and splattered on Tim’s kitchen floor. She would have been pounding the floor with her front hooves if she wasn’t an amputee who needed her only front leg to support herself. He had almost expected this reaction out of her, but was still pissed off by it regardless.
“You stop that shit right now!” Tim put on his scary monster voice. That was the voice he only used when he was super angry.
The babies had been sleeping in their basket while the mother fluffy advocated on their behalf regarding deserving the bestest milkies. But Tim’s scary monster voice startled them all awake and sent them into a frenzy of peeps and chirps.
“Fiwst, dummeh Daddeh nuu wanna gib Sassa-fass sketties. Den, make Sassa-fass eat wowstest stinky jelly nummies. Now Daddeh am say dat nuu Sketti Day fow su many fowevahs? Daddeh am bein’ wowstest meanie!” Sassafras puffed her cheeks up again and gave her most-intimidating angry face. Tim didn’t even feign amusement.
“Okay. I’m the worstest meanie, huh? Do you realize how much work it takes to get by in this world? I work hard. You sit around doing nothing. Why do I tolerate all that? I guess it’s all because I’m the worstest meanie! So you know what, Sassafras?” Daddy squatted down beside Sassafras’s basket of chirping children and took the sky blue colt in his huge, rough hand.
Sassafras, both crippled and in shock from her daddy snapping, couldn’t move quickly enough to intervene. The tiny, chirping fluffy was lifted swiftly up into the air.
“Wha Daddeh doin? Nuu take babbeh! Babbeh am tu widdew fo big upsies, Daddeh!” Sassafras scrambled on her two good leggies to go after her daddy. She ambled clumsily in place before making any headway, owing not only to her lack of strength and coordination but also to the smooth tiles beneath her.
“I’m gonna start collecting on the debt you owe me,” he said with no hint of emotion. Not even anger was obvious in his flat voice. At least, not obvious not to Sassafras.
The panicked fluffy followed Daddy. She was only really able to crawl, all the way over to the sink. She was in a total state. Why was Daddeh bringing her beautiful little blue son over to the place where the wawa comes out? Didn’t he know wawa was bad for fluffies!?
“Daddeh, nuu huwt babbeh! Pwease, Daddeh! Pwease, nu gib babbeh huwties!” Sassafras yelled through laboured breaths as she shuffled after her daddy.
“I’m not gonna hurt your baby. He’s just gonna help me clean the dishes!” Tim placed Sassafras’s baby into the soapdish that was mounted just above the sink, where he’d normally keep the sponge. He peeped for his mother. The blind little fluffy was cold, confused, and let out terrified chirps each time a rogue drop of water splashed onto him. Tim ignored his impotent little sounds of protest and continued washing the rest of the dishes with a puffy blue sponge. He’d soak it in dish soap and then wash the pots, pans, dishes, and utensils until each was clean enough to eat off of.
By the time Tim had progressed through most of the dishes in the sink, the baby was chirping impatiently at full volume. Over and over he let out desperate chirps. He was trying with all his might to call to his mother for love and sustenance. Sassafras could hear his cries, but aldo her other foals from across the kitchen. They also peeped and cried, hungry for her milkies.
“Huu-huuuuu… Daddeh, Mummah heaw Babbeh cwin’. Pwease… Pwease, wet widdew babbeh back down and gib back tu Mummah…” Sassafras reached her one front hoofsie up to Tim and whimpered.
“He’s not done helping clean-up,” responded Daddeh.
“Buh Daddeh-heh-heeeh, Babbeh am tuu widdew fow hewp-iiiiing!” Sassafras clenched her eyes and sobbed. Tears ran down her cheeks and soaked her pink fluff. She didn’t like any of this! Scary! Scary! Why was Daddy doing this? Why was he being so mean to her baby? Why was he being so mean to her? All she’d wanted was to be the best mummah! What was wrong about that?
Tim sneered.
“Fine, you big crybaby! Now shut up!” Tim passed the small blue blob to Sassafras by placing it on the floor beside her, and she gleefully took immediately to reassuring the baby.
“Yay, tank yuu!” Sassafras stared down at the blurry blue form before her through her big tears." She flopped down on the floor beside it and smiled through her crying and sniffles. “Hewwo, Babbeh! Nu wowwy ow s-saddies nu mowe. Mum-” Sassafras stopped talking immediately when she noticed that her baby’s peeping had only become more loud and terrified since he was returned to her. She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes, and focused.
Peep! Peep! Chirp!
What was laying on the kitchen floor in front of Sassafras was not her little blue baby. Her attention then snapped upward to see what Daddeh was doing and she was able to catch just a glimpse of something small and powder-blue gripped in Daddeh’s big, strong hand.
Her daddy had the sink on and wawa was pouring out of the pipe on top. Sassafras wached, stunned, as her daddy held her chubby, chirping foal under the water until his velvety fuzz was soaked. She couldn’t believe what was happening! Timothy deftly moved the foal over to the soap dispenser and squeezed some soap, as cold as ice against the baby’s skin, onto his soaking wet back. This caused a new series of peeps to burst forth from the baby’s mouth, but they were immediately drowned out by his mother’s loud horrified wails.
“Dat nuu am spun-gee! NUU AM SPUN-GEE!! Am bwue babbeh! Stahp! Daddeh! Stahp! STAHP!!”
But Daddeh didn’t even acknowledge her! He just took her soap-covered baby in his hand and pressed it against the inside surface of the her bowl. Her human owner callously began to swirl her baby against the sloped walls of the dish. Round, and round, and round he was slid. The blind infant fluffy was peeping, and cheeping, and chirping his pleas to be saved from this wet, cold, hellish experience.
Everybody knew wawa was bad for fluffies! Sassafras was a crying mess, wallowing in a puddle on the floor beside Tim’s feet. Why was her daddy hurting her baby? Why was this happening!?
The baby, soaking wet and covered in sweet-smelling soap suds, began to hack and cough. His tiny coughs only served to make his mother even more upset.
Kaff! P-peep! Kaff!
“DADDEH! STAAAHP!!” Sassafras screamed, her voice breaking.
Tim placed the freshly-cleaned fluffy food bowl calmly into dish drying rack and then held his scrubbing implement under the warm flowing water to rinse off the soap suds.
“What?! What is it, Sassafras? I already gave you back your–” He looked down at what he was rinsing under the faucet and then placed his other hand over his lips in a cartoonish expression of surprise.
'Ah, well,’ thought Tim to himself. ‘Sorry, kid. It’s the price of a lesson. You’ll never remember this ever even happened, anyway.’
The baby was gasping, crying, and trembling horribly from the air against its barely-protected skin. The baby blue foal just wanted his mummah, already! Where was she? Why didn’t she help him?!
The dull warmth of being cupped in Tim’s wet hand was the foal’s sole source of comfort.
Peep…
“Oh, gosh Sassafras I am just sooo sorry! I didn’t realize!” Tim placed the baby into the empty sink basin, causing it to let out a bevy of pathetic little protestations. He scooped the adult fluffy into one arm and held her to his chest. He then picked her waterlogged baby up and placed it onto her belly. Sassafras’s lip quivered and she sniffled when she looked down and saw the baby shaking like a leaf, and heard his sad little peeps of fear and discomfort.
“Bwue Babbeh, huuu-huuu… Shhh… Shhh… Mummah hewe nao, an’ ebewyting’s otay… Babbeh get bestest wawmsies and snuggies fwum Mummah,” Sassafras whispered to her baby.
“Sassy, I’m sorry that happened.” Tim’s tone then took on a dismissive quality. “But your baby seems just fine, I think. No worse for wear.”
The baby fluffy’s characteristic peeping was interwoven with the occasional Kaff! or Hic! Sassafras stared at the little blue earthie colt with concern and upset. What her daddy had done was so cruel, and so so stupid! He could have really hurt her baby! He could have even given him forever sleepies by doing that! But… On the other hoofsie, Daddeh had said that he was sorry. And he did sound like he was being very sincere about that.
“It… It am otay, Daddeh. Sassa-fass fow-gib Daddeh… Sassy wub you, Daddeh…” Sassafras let the words flow out, but something about them made Sassafras feel bad. It all felt… wrong somehow.
“Thank you, Sassafras. I love you, too.”
Tim carried them as he approached the wicker basket of chirpies that still stood there in the same spot where Sassafras had had her dinner. He grabbed the handle and carried them, along with their mother and blue sibling who still lay cradled to his chest, back to the safe room.
Timothy stepped over the gate and brought the family over to the fluffy bed. He laid down Sassafras and the baby that lay against her fluff. He then placed each baby into the bed with her. Two of them were set on her millie places and they began to suckle, happily recieving the wonderful ambrosia that came forth.
“I trust you’ll be fine getting them all fed, since you seemed to do fine on your own before. I’m heading to bed.”
“Wub you, Daddeh…” Sassafras looked at him, and smiled a weak smile.
“I know, hon. Love you. Good night.” Tim stood up after that and moved back toward the saferoom door. He reached up and flicked off the light switch. The night light comforted Sassafras, as always. But she still felt discontented.
“Daddeh?” Sassafras peared up at Tim, but then quickly averted her gaze. “Sassa-fass am sowwy fow awgue wiff Daddeh… Mummah jus’ wan what bestest fow babbehs.” Sassafras then looked at her poor blue baby. He snoozed peacefully beside her in bed and she felt relief as she listened to his breaths, a small peep escaping with each exhale.
Before he disappeared from view, Tim looked back over his shoulder and said, “We’re even.”
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