Just a drabble...But something other than fanfic.

It wasn’t as if this was the way he’d envisioned their life together - married for almost two years already and both of them working in her family’s pizza shop.

It wasn’t as if he resented their current situation - her father looked upon him as if he were a son and he treated him like one too, with the occasional passionate curse in Italian or a swift cuff to the head. 

It wasn’t as if, in thirty years time, they’d still be there; her parents long gone and with children of their own manning the phone and the kitchen while he shuffled piping hot pizzas in and out of the oven and she smiled sweetly as she brought customers their drinks or pasta.

It wasn’t as if these thoughts kept him awake at night, a tight hard knot in his guts, when the only sounds he could hear were the cars on the street, his wife’s steady breathing and his own solid, heavy heartbeat.

The young man pulled himself upright, careful not to tilt the mattress too much so as to wake her. He ran his fingers gently through her dark tresses and raised his body to its feet. He silently changed and clicked the door closed behind him.

He stole carefully out into the night with not a thing on his person save for the flour covered clothing he’d worn that day and about $3.50 in his pocket. He took a deep breath of the cold, cold night air and it burned his lungs. Pain. It let him know he was alive - for the first time in the past few years he really felt alive. 

He started walking in no direction in particular.

It wasn't as if he'd never be back.