I met my wife in this town. A small, tight-knit community called Gardenwoods. Moved in from the city—desperate to escape the smog, congestion and condensed, monotonous buildings. I needed change, vibrancy.

I was sitting at the table, coffee mug warming my hands, breathing in the chestnut vapors swirling under my nose. The sunlight swam through the kitchen window and washed against my face, the birds just beyond fluttering beneath milky clouds. I was living inside a hallmark card, and there was no reason greater than the woman I was watching twirling around the kitchen in a sunflower dress. She’d slid a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and waffles in front of me, then took my stubble chin and stamped it with red lipstick.

I watched her move. Her skin was smooth as silk, without blemish and emanated with a golden hue. It always bummed me out she never liked wearing anything that exposed her arms or back. She was traditional like that. I would pry, but not too hard; figured it was rooted in self-image issues growing up. The dress she wore now was as close as I could get—and even then, she wore a white long-sleeved tunic underneath.

After breakfast, I’d gone out to retrieve the mail. I started sorting through the envelopes when I looked up and saw a white van pull up to the neighbor’s house across the street.

“Good morning, Mr. Miller!”

“Mornin’, Joe.” I waved.

Joe was the friendly neighborhood electrician. Anytime you’d see JOE’S ELECTRICAL Co. parked in the driveway, you could rest assured he was conducting maintenance for that household. Best in the business! my neighbors would tell me. With how often he’d show up on our block, I was inclined to believe nobody knew how to take proper care of their electronics.

It’s worth mentioning all our neighbors were a lot older than my wife and me—senior citizens, most of them—so I suppose a little help in the tech department’s to be expected.

“When you comin’ to my place, Joe?” I joked, trotting up my lawn.

“Oh, I’ll be there today!”

I gave him a thumbs up, shut the door. Later, I’d gone off to work a 10-hour shift, my wife donated 8 hours at the community center—long day for both of us. We were finally in bed that night after she cooked a wonderful dinner. I was out instantly.

A noise woke me up in the dark. I rolled over and saw my wife on her side, staring at me with wide eyes and open mouth, as if she froze after being frightened. I heard fumbling, then footsteps in the hallway. A beam of light was slicing through the dark. A figure walked up to my wife, aimed the flashlight and started fiddling with her backside. It looked up and saw me.

“Oh, hey Mr. Miller. Almost done here, not to worry. She’ll be ready to go by morning.”