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They had been high school sweet hearts. He liked chess, she liked to paint. He enjoyed building model ships and she sometimes sang in the shower. They melded together like ice cream and pie. Every day they would wake up together and feel the morning sun light. It would seep into them, removing the darkness, the thoughtless things said earlier, and the inhibitions to the unconcious.

As much as she tried to admire his ships and he her not always on key voice, they didn't always understand one another. It's no surprise that not everyone thinks the same, for we each have our own thoughts and feelings on everything, therefore our own understanding. But this is not our story, it's Bernard's and Glenda's.

She was always so shocked when he raised his voice at a comment she made. Even watching certain channels on the TV could raise an argument. Sometimes it was those "damn" sour cream commercials. She just couldn't understand why he didn't enjoy that cute jingle. And he didn't understand why she had to sing it in the shower.

But every once in a while, when the fighting and seething had ended for the day, they would lie in bed next to each other. Bernard on the right and Glenda on the left (she liked the view of the window). And on those nights, when none of them were thinking about it, they would share stories about their day. He would listen and she would nod, and they would understand. Never knowing and never fully realizing it, both of them would release and hold their sorrow, their thoughts, their feelings and their love.