Macy got up from the couch. She ran a finger under Larry’s chin, tilting Hillary’s perfect face up toward hers. “I’ve spent three years wanting to slap that smug look off her face,” she murmured. “And now I can make her do anything I want.” Larry’s throat gulped, he croaked, “Still me in here.” That made Macy smirk. “Sure.” She walked, no, skipped to the fridge. Larry hadn’t seen her this happy in months. Macy rummaged through the fridge, the whipped cream seemed to satisfy her, and she reached for some ice cream from the top shelf of the freezer. He used to adore watching his petite wife try to get things from the top drawers. It wasn’t hitting the same now that he was half an inch shorter than her. Larry knew this because he would always have to hear about it when Macy came home from work. Just this week he’d had an earful, “She knows what she’s doing. Yesterday it was the three-inch heels. It’s not really a heel office, you know? So I decided to bring my own three-inch heels, and this girl came in wearing two-inch heels. She wants me to look like a whore!” None of it made sense to him. She seemed weirdly obsessed with this Hillary girl, and by some stroke of luck, he was in her shoes with no way out.
Macy danced back to the couch where Larry sat idly scratching the paint off a nail. Mugs clinked, spoons rattling inside. “Every girl’s night needs snacks. What movie are we watching?” Macy wiggled deep beside Larry on the couch, almost sitting on his lap. This was nothing unusual to Larry, just a little more suffocating now. “Just watching the game, the fourth’s almost done.” He grabbed for the controller to lower the volume, but Macy took it without hesitation. “Booooring. Okay, let’s see what we got here…” She switched to Netflix with the click of a button. “Rude…” Larry said meekly. Macy didn’t seem to hear. Minutes later, the rivals-turned-couple were snacking while enjoying a romantic comedy. It was some kind of normalcy. Larry had a ton of things running through his mind while staring at the TV when a cold bit of whipped cream on his nose broke his concentration. He turned to face a giggling Macy already loading up a handful of whipped cream. Larry could only smile for a second before a hard hand of cream hit the side of his face, stunning him. He did not remember his wife packing that heavy of a hit before. He sat in a bit of a daze deep in the couch, Macy’s giggle growing louder. She dipped a finger in her ice cream and wiped it on his other cheek. Macy appreciated her work for a second before dipping back in her cup for some more to smear. Larry sat there, confused more than anything. “Babe, what are you…” She interrupted him, “Don’t call me babe right now… just Macy, okay?”
