The Illusive Story

Hello.

Well, I wasn't lying. Here it is. I published it all up so I can now put it up on the internet. If you like it or have a typo, let me know. And just so you know, I had to type this whole thing out because the html scripting kept coming up as incorrect. Your welcome.

Thanks,
Josh

The sound of the city fills their small apartment. It is only a two-bedroom hovel on the seventh floor of an east-side complex. Each siren or shot from the street was a sledge hammer to the walls, which were paper thin.
One night, the fire company had gone by the complex and the walls shook so violently that their wedding pictures fell to the floor.
The shouting never seemed to stop, from the outside or the inside. Due to the walls being no more that 2 inches thick, each neighbor's fight could be heard throughout the building. In fact, the Grankowski's were having such an argument a knife came flying through their wall just now.
This made her cry, not because she would have to ask her husband to fix the hole in the wall, but because of the utter depression this caused her. Her husband was out working, and he wouldn't be home for a while, which meant that she had to sit there and stare at the knife protruding through her wall.
The more she thinks about their home, if you could call it that, the worse she feels. Wasn't marriage supposed to be happier than this? Her husband works 6 days a week to get them by, and she was pregnant--very pregnant. He not only slaved all week for her, but for their baby, which would be living here as well.
This returns the tears.
He promised her, when he proposed, that they would never have much money due to his line of work, bu she agreed to that. She loved him more than the thought of a comfortable life, but at times she questions if she knew what she was getting into.
He is an honest man, who loves God and his work, and more importantly--he loves her. He loves her with a fire, and he always makes sure she knows it. Not a day goes by without little love notes littered around the house, or a poem. At least once a day he calls the house from work, just to talk--and to tell her that he loves her.
A door creaked; she didn't look up, you could hear everyone's door open--to her surprise, a set of arms wrapped around her huge stomach
She jumps!
He laughs.
She turns to see him with some dirt on his face and a chill on his nose, but his smile--that is always what mesmerizes her. He whispers his words of love and she melts in his arms, like always.
"I have a treat for you, my dear," he says softly into her ear.
"Oh really, please do tell," her words are shaped by the broadening smile on her face.
Quickly he pulls a thermos from his bag, and poured two cups of coffee. It was brewed just the way she loves it--the way that he makes it. Following the coffee he pulls a container of Oreo's out of his bag of goodies. Then, a lantern.
"Where did you get the lantern?" puzzled, she doesn't even try to ask it, it just comes out.
"Well, I bought it with some money I have squirreled away. I have always wanted to have conversations with you by our fire place--" her laughing cuts him off. His smile broadens and he continued, "So, here is our fire place!"
She laughs, more than she had in a while. If it was one thing he always seems to bve able to cure, it was her sorrow. Quickly, her laughter turns to tears.
"Dear, what is wrong? Don't you like the new addition to our palace?" he asked, knowing that he could get her to smile.
"No, I love it. You always make this work," she said this as she slumps onto his shoulder and moves into keen snuggling position.
"I can't give you much, but you always have my love, "he whispers as he kisses her head.
As the sirens drone and the people shout, the husband and his wife settle down in each other's arms. They forgot the sorrows that surround them as they were both lost in the palace they created.