To give some context to this story, I live with my wife, Heather, in a large two-story modern colonial in the country with a long, narrow dirt driveway. Heather and I have been married twelve years and we do alright for ourselves. I work from home as the lead editor for a popular publishing house and she works full-time outside the home as the general manager of a local brewing company. Our professional lives are extremely involved and busy most days.
Sadly though, I would describe our marriage as pretty run-of-the-mill; we’ve gotten quite complacent these last few years. We’ve both been kind of withdrawing if I’m being honest.
And that’s exactly how these kinds of stories usually begin I imagine.
>>Enter Amber<<
Amber is the young and bubbly girl who delivers our Amazon packages, usually at least once a week (Heather has a closeted Amazon addiction. Needless to say, we get a lot of packages). Out here, the rural carriers are usually pretty consistent too. Every once in a while, there’ll be someone else who delivers our stuff but most of the time Amber is our girl.