Grinders

They'd been sleeping together for four months when she decided she'd better bring up a slightly uncomfortable topic. But, coward that she was, she approached it by calling attention to his shortcomings first.

"Darling," she said, when they were lying in bed one morning, "did you know you grind your teeth when you sleep?"

He looked a little embarrassed and nodded.

"It's no big deal!" she laughed softly and put her hand on his shoulder. "I totally understand."

"You would, I guess," he said and cleared his throat a little. "Because you do it too."

She looked down, slightly ashamed. "I know," she whispered. "And there's something I haven't told you."

He looked at her with concern.

She went on. "I have a mouthguard I'm supposed to wear when I sleep. But since our first night together," they both smiled at the memory, "I haven't wanted to, er, spoil things by putting it in."

He reached over and opened the drawer of his bedside table, pulling out a blue plastic box. He shook the box. "Does it look like this?" He held up a piece of molded transparent plastic.

She gasped. "You too?" she asked. "What are we going to do?"

He shrugged, put the mouthguard back in its case and tossed the case in the drawer. Then he turned on his side to look at her. "If we ever feel close enough to put in our mouthguards before we go to sleep at night," he said, "then I guess that's a good thing." He thought for a minute. "Isn't it?"

(prompted by Sunday Scribblings)