H: What are you doing here?
M: I’m going to sleep.
H: But you said you hated me and then hit me with your car.
M: I’m pretty sure I’ve done neither of those things.
H: I think it was the yogurt.
H: It’s a secret.
M: What is?
H: The picture of our kids.
H: Shhh, shhh… You’re good now. You’re good. (pats my arm)
H: Baby, what are you doing?
M: Getting a sheet out. Blanket’s too hot.
H: I didn’t hit you, did I?
M: No… Why would you?
H: I didn’t get you what you wanted for your birthday.
M: … What did I want?
H: Um, a puppy and some wine.
[note: neither of those things are something I’d ever want]
H: (while patting my face) Shh, shh…
H: Don’t wake Beth up.
M: Why not?
H: She’ll get angry and shoot you.
(I wake up and he is not in bed. After a short search, I find him sleeping on the couch.)
M: Babe, what are you doing out here?
H: You made me come out here.
M: I didn’t make you do anything!
H: You were angry after the fire and made me come out here.