"Another Tuesday morning." you sigh to yourself, staring at the ceiling. "And another push of the snooze button."
You push the button and the jibber-jabber of the morning radio show host stops. You turn over and close your eyes.
You hear a sigh next to you, and a small groan.
"Whuh time is it, babe?" your girlfriend Vanessa asks.
You open your eyes to peek at the clock and answer her.
"It's 8:08."
She yawns loudly, a yawn that blends into an "Okay."
She wraps her arm around you, rubbing your back for a moment, then the whole bed moves as she gets up.
You hear her urinate, then wash her hands, and hear her head down the hall to the kitchen.
You roll over again, to look at the ceiling. You sit up to stretch, and start to stand up, too, to go to the bathroom. You make it to the door and your alarm goes off again, this time blaring a Bruce Springsteen song.
You cross the room again, to turn off the radio, then get to your business in the restroom.
You wash your hands and head to the kitchen.
Vanessa is sitting on the counter next to the coffee pot, staring at the floor.
She looks up as you enter the room, and smiles.
You kiss, and then dig out two mugs from the strainer.
"You know, babe, I'm done with my project as of later today. Then I've got two and a half weeks off."
You hand her a mug and you smile at her. "Oh, yeah? Can you tell me what it is, now?"
She'd been working on this "project" for a good six months or so, and she'd told you nothing of it.
"Maybe." she said. "Maybe, baby."
That was her answer all the time. 'Maybe' was a word you were getting sick of. You'd gotten into several fights over this damned project of hers, even. Once, the worst time, you were drunkenly suspicious it was an affair of hers. Then the morning came, and you were sorry and reasonable: the project had been going on in her basement lab. No men down there.
Another few times, less loud but still angry, came on about her and you not seeing eye-to-eye: You had thought that she had thought that your thoughts couldn't comprehend it, her chemistry degree paired against your simpler construction career. She simply reasoned then of the necessary secrecy in her work, and the corporations involved.
Lately it hadn't been mentioned, until now.
"Sure you can't tell me about it yet?"
Vanessa took the first sip of her coffee and poured you yours.
Again, she grinned and repeated...
"Maybe. Maybe, baby."