While he was fixing his shirt in the mirror, I absentmindedly picked up a black marker from the dresser. I twirled it in my fingers, my mind wandering to silly thoughts. And then, a mischievous idea struck me.
“Hey, Trav, hold still,” I said, walking up behind him.
“What are you doing?” he laughed, looking at me in the mirror as I pulled up his shirt.
“This,” I said, as I scribbled on his chest in bold letters, “This is my husband. If you touch him, you’ll pay for it. M.”
Travis stared at my handiwork in the mirror and shook his head, amused. “Really, Mica? That’s what you’re going with?”
“What? It’s cute!” I grinned. “Besides, now everyone know’s he’s off-limits.”
“Yeah, because that’s what every guy wants – his wife’s handwriting all over him,” he teased, pulling his shirt down.