He froze for a moment, then shrugged.
“Just taking the trash out.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep… figured I’d get it done.” His voice carried that casual tone but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.
I stared at him in the dim hallway light.
In 22 years of marriage, Dave had never voluntarily taken out the trash, let alone in the middle of the night.
“Since when do you take the trash out at all?”
He gave me a quick smile and disappeared down the hall.
The next morning, I checked under the kitchen sink. The trash can sat empty, the liner crisp and new. My stomach twisted.
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