Stan lazed out of his bed for the fourth time this workweek.
"C'mon, sleepyhead. The coffee's gonna get cold!" a voice called from the kitchen.
"I'm coming, sweetie!" he responded.

Becoming more accustomed to his work schedule was rather tough. The later sunrises this time of year doesn't help, he mused as he brushes his teeth.

Haphazardly dressed, he enters the dining room and collapses into a chair. Stan stares at the usual waffles, egg, and bacon that his wife prepared for him.
"How is it?" she inquires.
"Very good, as usual," Stan mumbled through a mouthful of waffles. "Thanks for the coffee, Martha."
"No problem." Martha sits down across from Stan, staring at the shadow cast by his excessive eyebags.

The morning paper was retrieved, and Stan scanned through it quickly before folding it up and briskly heading out the door.
"Anything noteworthy?" Martha asked as she handed him a packed lunch.
"Not at all," he lied. "Love you."
With a peck on the forehead, he was off.

He deviated from his usual path to work to visit a store briefly.
Looking up, the grey and unflattering storefront gave way to red-brick condominiums above. The drab store had no sign and no hours posted, which stood out from the brightly colored buildings in the surrounding shopping district.
Stan stared at the storefront for a moment before walking off to work.

The work of an accountant is safe and scarcely exciting, which was what Stan was looking for. He had been given mostly menial tasks since he was still adjusting to the job and the company's protocols, and that allowed his mind to wander. On this particular day, Stan pondered what he saw in the newspaper earlier. Impossible, he muttered and refocused on the task at hand.
While on break, Stan slipped into a conversation with a coworker what was on his mind. They laughed it off, and they returned to work shortly after.

---

"Welcome back, Stan!"
"Thank you, Martha. Great to see you again."
"There's no need to be so formal, you. We're married, right?"
"I can't help it, honey. Sitting behind a desk all day gets to you."
Stan hung his coat and slumped onto the couch, next to Martha.

"How's dinner coming along?"
"Oh, you. Always thinking about food. You better watch yourself," she warned while wagging her finger at him. Martha smiled, "I can whip it up real quick for you if you'd like."
"If you'd please." Stan returned the smile.
As she got up, Stan stopped her. "One thing, though."
"Oh?"
"I think it's about time we treat ourselves. You've worked so hard, after all. How does eating out tomorrow sound?"
Martha grinned. "Now wouldn't that be great? Of course!"
Stan continued, "I saw this interesting local restaurant in the paper this morning. I hope it doesn't disappoint."
"It better not!" came the response from the kitchen, followed by a hearty laugh.
"She's amazing, isn't she..." Stan remarked to no one in particular.

---

The following morning was just as uneventful.
"Anything new? Any restaurants?" Martha teased.
"No, nothing of the sort."
He stopped by the storefront again. Nothing had changed. Stan even tried looking inside, but the windows were dark enough that he could see nothing.

Upon arriving at work, Stan noticed that a few of his coworkers were absent. He checked around the office, but he could find no trace of them.
He brought it up with his supervisor, who brushed it off. "Probably just had a family emergency." he scoffed.
Stan didn't bring it up again, but he quickly made a call to his friend, only to be met with a busy tone.
Stan, by now, had been swamped with work, so he paid no more attention to it until the end of the workday.

On his walk back home, Stan thought back to his previous conversations with his friends the day before while he made the detour to the storefront again.
"Do you want to join us for a round of drinks at the new restaurant?" he was asked.
"No, I can't this time, but do enjoy yourselves. Tell me how it goes," Stan had responded.
With overcast skies, the grey walls looked imposing as ever.

Stan had an uneasy feeling about this store, but he had made a promise to take his wife here for dinner. With thunder in the distance, Stan rushed home.

"Why in such a hurry?"
"I heard thunder, so I ran home. Didn't want to get wet."
"Ah, I see. It's good to see you!"
Stan only nodded and shifted his gaze away from Martha's illustrious eyes.
"Is something the matter? You seem a bit off."
"Well, Martha, my friends went drinking last night, and-"
"Oh, I know what'll cheer you up!" she interrupted. "How about we go out to eat today? Didn't you find a nice place in the paper the other day?"
"Ah, alright."

Stanley fetched his umbrella, and they departed in the ever-sonorous rain. Tracing the path that Stan took the past couple of mornings, the wife and husband arrived at the mysterious restaurant under unwelcoming skies. The door was unlocked, and a welcoming voice beckoned them in as they entered.

Since then, the store was sold and renovated into a garden boutique. Do not worry; Stan and Martha will forever live on, nourishing gardens throughout the town with their bones and flesh in the form of the store's flagship fertilizer.