“He’s been whimpering in his sleep, John.”

“Whimmering? What do you mean whimmering?”

“Whimpering, John. Whimpering. ”

John Brink plopped down on his favorite blue chair while his wife, Cheryl, stood across the room in the kitchen, her one arm wrapped around herself and the hand of her other stroking her temple. He had just got home, his suitcases still placed on the couch adjacent to him.

“Oh come on,” John responded. “Our son is not whimpering. You’re mixing up babbling in dreams, with—”

Cheryl straightened up, moving her arms from their previous position and now using them to illustrate what she was saying.

“John, for the past three nights, as I went to bed, I opened his door and heard him. Whimpering. For ten minutes I listened to him, and every couple minutes, distinctly a whimper.”

She let her words resonate for a moment, and then she put her one arm around her and put the hand of the other against her temple, like before. She looked down, her eyes distant. Her husband stared at her for a time, then looked out the window and began to speak.

“Well, I still think you’ve been mistaken. Ollie? Our little Ollie, whimpering in his sleep? I really think you’ve been mistaken. Don’t you go thinking, now, that our Ollie is like those dreadful Rosely boys. He may be different, but there’s no reason to jump to the conclusion that he’s been whimpering.”

John looked back Cheryl, gazing at her for what must have been twenty seconds. She continued to look down. Finally John rustled, and got up from his chair, walking to Cheryl and placing a light kiss on her forehead while putting his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re just mistaken, honey. That’s all. I’m sure—I’m sure you just missed me so much, that’s it. I haven’t had a business trip in such a long time, you just missed me, that’s all!” He smirked. She remained unflinching. John rubbed her shoulder, then finally yawned and walked towards cupboard in the kitchen behind Cheryl, got out a glass, and went to the sink.

“Well, I’m gotta hit the sack. That seven-hour plane ride really wipes one out.”

He turned on the water and filled his cup up.

“You said to pick Ollie up from the McConey’s at ten tomorrow?”

Cheryl finally moved, and moved to the front door and locked it.

“Yes, yes, Barb said she’d drop him off, but she’s got errands to run before Church. Ten.”

John finished drinking his water, placed the cup inside the sink, and walked out of the kitchen down the hallway towards his room.

“Ten it is. Night, honey.”

“Night.”