A cure?

I’m grumpy this evening. Seriously grumpy. And I have good reasons to be. (That’s another story, but be assured it’s got nothing to do with the state of my marriage.)
I’ve drunk enough gin. (This has not made me happier, but it has not worsened my mood.)
And last night I had the worst night’s sleep I’ve had in a very, very long time. (Not as much as one continuous hour’s sleep.)

We discussed the reasons I’m grumpy. (And loosely speaking, We agree on these.)
I apologised for being grumpy and blamed it on how tired I am after last night. (Which is probably at least partially justified.)
She asked if there was anything She could do. (The question refered to the insomnia and was phrased in general terms, not specifically relating to tonight.)
Her : A massage? Sex? (Has this really never occurred to her before?)
I snorted a quiet, cynical laugh. (Of course it would bloody help! But does She really have to ask?)
Unprepared for this question, I paused. (The gin has made my mind slow tonight, and the pause feels unintentionally theatrical to me.)
Me :  Probably not. (A hasty retort, but I probably meant it.)

An hour or so later, we go to bed. (It’s been a civil hour and nothing more on the subject has been mentioned.)
As we do so, not a word is exchanged and the folds of the duvet fall between us. (I thought not.)

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