Michael Malone - Weebly

large man, bulkier than he had been as a youth, but still
muscular; by no means fat, just large. Most people
thought him a handsome man; some, in fact, thought he
looked better now than at eighteen, when his blond,
close-cropped curls and chiseled features and athlete's
body had seemed too perfect for down-to-earth
manliness. Now the hair was grizzled brown, the
features had broadened, the body had thickened.
The bad knee from the car accident had to be
favored more, particularly when, as now, he was tired.
Tonight, as his wife had cooked, he had stood there
with his weight off the weak leg, still in his dress pants
and suede boots and a blue dress shirt, its collar
loosened behind his tie. His hands, raised over his head,
pushed on either side of the doorway. Judith was
disturbed by the dark, wet stains under his arms. His
hands looked huge to her, the fingers spread out,
pushing against the walls. His sleeves were rolled above
his elbows, and muscles twitched along the thick brown
arms. "Well, more later," he had said, then asked if he
had time for a shower, and she had nodded yes.
So dinner had been cooked and eaten under the