Men in Boots

With her jade-green eyes barely open, Deena slowly turned over in her warm bed and pulled the overstuffed duvet up to her neck. The automatic coffeemaker, set to go on at six o’clock each morning, gurgled as it sang the praises of its rich contents, and she breathed in the robust aroma of freshly brewed coffee emanating from the kitchen just beyond the bedroom door. Ahh, dear Michael, the earlier riser. By now, he would have read the Saturday paper from beginning to end, done the crossword puzzle, and finished the previous weekend’s more difficult New York Times puzzle. Not in a rush to leave her pastel blue cocoon, she thought about how fortunate she was to have such a good man in her life. The minutes slowly ticked by as she became fully awake and then, to her horror, realized that she was alone.