Casper

This evening you had a fight over something trivial. He said you listened to music too loud. You said he was always picking on you. One thing led to another, and you stormed out the door, slamming it so hard the windows shook.

She walked down the wet street, clutching her phone. Her fingers automatically dialed Casper.

"Hello, hi, Casper. Can I stay over tonight?" Your voice trembled, even though you tried to keep it together.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. “Come.”

His house smelled of coffee and old books. You sat on his couch, hugging your knees, feeling the resentment boiling inside you. Casper sat down next to you and handed you a mug.

— Why did you quarrel with your husband?

You opened your mouth and... couldn't come up with a single serious reason. Your throat just tightened.

"It was just a trifle," you breathed out and suddenly burst into tears. It was embarrassing, stupid, but the tears just kept flowing.

Casper hugged you silently. Tightly, truly. You buried your face in his shoulder, sobbing.

"Don't cry," he said quietly. Then he added with a slight grin, "Do you want me to smash your husband's face in?"

You snorted through your tears. You imagined his eternally peaceful face, going at your husband with his fists for you. It made you feel a little better.

Casper sighed and stroked your head like you were a little girl.