It was past 3 a.m. when Todd stumbled through the front door of the apartment and staggered into the bedroom. The familiar naughty boy grin plastered across his face as he rocked back and forth at the end of the bed. The stench of cheap liquor and stale cigarettes on his breath.

Sarah was sitting up in the bed, dressed in her favorite pink flannel dressing gown. She put down the cookbook she was reading and stared at Todd’s bloodshot eyes.

“I’m sorry, babe. Got caught up with the boys again and lost track of time,” he slurred.

“That’s okay. How about you get undressed and into bed. You must be exhausted,” Sarah said softly.

Todd flashed a crooked smirk as he collapsed onto the bed next to her like a sack of old rags. His head hitting the pillow. Eyes closing shut as he passed out.

Sarah hopped out of bed and took off his muddy shoes. She gently folded her half of the white comforter over him and left the bedroom, switching off the light on her way out.

It wasn’t the first time Sarah had been forced to sleep on the sofa. She pulled a blanket over her body, rested her head on a cushion, and stared up at the ceiling, listening in the dark to Todd’s thunderous snoring coming from the bedroom.

—

It was late in the morning and the sun was streaming through the kitchen window.

Sarah checked her watch and wandered over to the oven.

Peering through the glass door she could see the golden crust of the pie and knew it was ready. She reached for the oven gloves from the counter and put them on.

When the pie came out of the oven, Sarah eyed it with a satisfied smile. It was perfectly cooked and filled the entire ceramic baking dish. She placed it down on the stove top and reached up for a white dinner plate from the shelf.

“Ooh, my fucking head!”

Sarah heard Todd’s chesty moan coming from the bedroom, followed by a loud, rumbling fart. He was finally awake.

She neatly cut a generous slice of the pie and placed it on the plate with a spatula. She carried it quickly into the bedroom with a small bottle of water she had taken from the fridge.

Todd was still in his disheveled suit, greasy hair flopped over his forehead, trying to summon up the strength to crawl out of bed.

“I thought you might want breakfast in bed, sweetheart,” Sarah said, placing the plate down in front of him.

Todd reached over and snatched the bottle of water from her hand.

He unscrewed the cap and poured the water into his throat, gulping it down and throwing the empty bottle onto the carpet. He looked at the slice of pie sitting on the plate.

“Smells bloody marvelous,” he exclaimed, grinning.

“Let me go get you a knife and fork,” Sarah replied.