Page 38 of Crossing the Line
Seven
Later that night,Janice walked into her living room and smiled.
Bixby was asleep on the couch.
It wasn't all that shocking.
When they were married, he'd fall asleep on the couch regularly.
Especially after a long day at the market.
In those early years when they were getting the market to where it was running smoothly without them having to put out virtual fires over and over again during the day, they didn't even sit at the dining table to eat.
They'd throw together whatever sounded good, because how their food looked didn't count back then.
And when the food was cooked, they'd collapse on the couch and eat shoulder to shoulder watching whatever was playing on TV that night.
They didn't even bother searching for a show.
It was at least vaguely interesting they'd chew along to whatever happened on the screen.
And if they were having a particularly good day, only one of them would fall asleep on the couch.
On a tough day, they would both collapse amongst the overstuffed cushions that Janice had bought.
Those cushions had somehow ended up with Bixby after the divorce and the couch he loved so much had ended up in her half of the house.
Maybe that's why he'd fallen asleep so fast.
She sat down beside him and turned on the TV.
Now instead of the old TV channels they'd watched when they were younger, it was a streaming service that popped up on her Apple TV.
Janice turned to look at Bixby and smiled.
It was the only streaming service she used, not because she liked it but one of the high school students had set up her TV for her and she'd been too embarrassed to ask for instructions on how to navigate between streaming apps, so she just used the one.
Janice sat back against the couch and smiled to herself.
There were instructions online.
She wasn't that stupid that she didn't know that, but she was also of an age where she preferred the old way that instructions came with appliances or computer programs.
Physical books.
Her brain was probably just hardwired for reading physical text. After all, when she was in school, they were still teaching typing on typewriters, not computer keyboards.
A commercial popped up on the screen and Janice debated whether she should get up and go to the bathroom or just stay seated.
A twinge of pain in her hip decided the answer for her and she yawned, sagging back against the couch.
Her mind was swimming in exhaustion, and she had a vague question in her head.
Was she tired because of all the sun she'd had in the garden earlier?
She winced at the idea.
She always used SPF 3000 or something like that.
