"This is nice, isn't it?" Hubs says.
"Yes, it is," I reply trying to see his face in the darkness.
"Think we could do this every week?"
I laugh out loud. "Is it that good?"
"What? You don't wanna do it every week?" he asks and I can hear hurt in his voice.
"For you, anything. If clean sheets mean that much to you, I will change them once a week, twice a week, everyday."
"Good," he says, "cause I would almost swear those other sheets were growing some kind of fur or something."
I see his smile in the dark, just like the Cheshire Cat, moments before the pillow lands with a thud on his face.