Shirts

I continue to hold him in the night, more tightly now the clock is ticking.

I fold his shirts the way he likes them, now that there is no need for silent rebellion.

I can't cook anymore though. I just don't care enough. Everyone's pickiness has brought me down
at last. In order to make a
meal, you need some sort of inspiration, or at least some kind of fear of reprisal or resentment. But 
now the fear is gone, the rebellion is gone, lots of things....gone. And I don't think anyone else cares, either.

This is what happens when you get married by a pirate in a mansion.