“I need more.” Simple statement simply stated. She rubbed her napkin over the scratch in the table finish as if hoping a genie would burst forth from her coffee cup. She could feel his eyes on her. Below her lids, his spoon froze in mid air, a mound of Shredded Wheat, milk dripping from beneath, plop, plink, plop into the bowl. His mouth drooped open in disbelief. 

            Again with this conversation. Again with the needing more. How much more could he give her? A beautiful home in the country, horses, cars, children, more? He couldn’t believe this was coming up again. He dropped his spoon into the half-eaten cereal. What did she want from him? He went to work every day, as did she. He came home to her at the same time every evening, never once giving into temptation as others often did. They went everywhere together, whenever they went anywhere. Every spare minute spent doing things for her, for their lives, for their love, for their family.

            She realized he loved her. She wondered sometime if he loved her more than work, any kind of work, work for pay, work around the house, work, work, work. Sometime she would like a real vacation. A real, romantic vacation. Sometime she just wanted to get away from everything. Her watery brown eyes wandered to the window above the sink, the brilliant blue sky of early morning, the quivering tree leaves, the peace.

            He crept into her memory, more often than not these days, invading her dreams at night, dancing her away from a life of boredom, mundane, monotony. He was her more. She turned to him every time she needed change. She remembered. She remembered and she felt. Often, she wanted to search for him, call him, see if he cared at all now. She knew where he was, though. There was no search necessary. He was where he always had been, where he would be until forever, where he should be, until the end.

He was there and he was here, in her mind, in her youthful memories, in her withering heart.

            Twenty, the magic number. They had made it twenty years. She marveled in that fact, as her parents and paternal grandparents had divorced after twenty years. She wondered if that would happen to her, but twenty was good; hell, it was great, considering her first only lasted seven. She thought about all the years they had shared thus far as she stole a glance across the table, quickly averting her eyes back to the blue sky beyond the cold room.  

He overtook her thoughts again, not believing it had been that long since they last saw each other, held each other in a passionate embrace, a kiss of desire burning their moist lips. What did he look like now, twenty years later? She knew. She saw him every day. He hadn’t changed at all, just aged a little.

He left the table, rinsing his bowl, his coffee cup, setting them in the dishwasher. He sighed, leaned against the counter, and squinted at her until her eyes met his. “Are you working today?”

“Yep. Later,” her eyes returned to the window. 

He shook his head. He hated this mood of hers. He wasn’t going to let go this morning, though. “What more can I give you that will make you happy?”

Him, she thought, “Nothing, I guess,” she whispered.

A glimmer caught his eye, a familiar glimmer within hers, a flash of something familiar to him, something he hadn’t seen in forever, then it was gone.

“I gotta go,” he leaned toward her, placed his hand around the back of her neck, kissed her temple lightly. A flash of warmth from her neck, a tingle down her spine, her eyes slowly closed, reopened.

“Okay, I’ll feed the horses this morning before I get started on work. You’re already late,” she responded

            “Thanks. I love you, you know.”

            “Yep, I know.” He was out the back door and starting his truck before she even got out of the chair. She rinsed her cup, opened the dishwasher, said, “Oh, Hell,” and left the cup on the counter closing the dishwasher.

            One her way to the barn she thought about him again. She remembered when they first kissed. They had been talking out by a barn, at a fair. He asked her if she wanted to walk with him. There was always something between them, though they had only been coworkers, friends, the spark was there. Neither could deny the attraction. They had come full circle around the barn, her needing to pack up her equipment, load her horse, him not wanting to part from her. She stepped away, around the trailer toward the large door of the barn, but before she took two steps, he hooked his finger into her belt loop, tugged her backward, and spun her into his waiting arms. He kissed her, softly first, as she hesitated, then much harder, passion melting them together.

            She smiled. The spontaneous romance, the unexpected passion, the heated desire, those were the things she missed, the things she longed for, the missing more. 

            She scooped cans of feed into the bucket, added supplements, delivered it into feeders. She cut open a bail of hay. The cool breeze of early spring brushed gently across her cheeks, pushing back her soft brown hair and blowing bits of hay about her, over her, into her as she stuffed the hay bags and slung them over the gates. 

            She leaned upon the gate of one stall letting the tallest horse sniff and blow upon her head while he chewed. She smoothed her hand down the length of his nose. She loved the barn, the smell of horses, the scent of fresh hay, the aging wood. Her eyes closed briefly, a smile touching her face, as she listened to the music of the breeze blowing between and around the cracks and crevices of the old metal barn. 

            A rumble filled the quiet morning and she opened her eyes to storm clouds gathering, traveling quickly toward the house, the barn, her. How long had she been standing there, daydreaming? How long had she been leaning against the gate thinking of him, wishing for him? Blue skies had quickly filled with gray and she hadn’t seen it coming. What else had slipped by her while she stood within the peaceful trance of touch, scent and sound?

            It had been a long time since the rain caught her in a barn. She wanted to stay, listen to the music of the rain plinking upon the metal roof, listen to the snort, puff, pawing of the horses as they ate. Alas, she had work to do, so she decided to run for it.

            The first cool drop touched her through the open stall, caught upon the breeze, splattering to her bare shoulder just right of the strap of her tank top. She turned quickly to her right, toward the open side door, but halted with a tug on her belt loop. She felt herself pulled back, twirled around, the memories flooding her as soon the rains would fill the thirsty earth.

            His arms embraced her as she came to stop against his body. His lips fell to meet hers. He was here. He was back. Twenty years she had waited, two children they had raised, a life they had built, but all the while more became less. Now… now more would be hers. Upon the hay, beneath the pattering of rain on metal, the song of the wind, they spent the morning, remembering and creating new memories, rekindling and rebuilding what once was theirs, the love that could bind them for twenty more years.