The smell of the freshly brewed coffee filled the room, as Roger walked about, preparing a lavish breakfast in the kitchen.

The sun had just peeked over the horizon, and Roger still couldn’t understand how he had lived his whole life hoping he could stay in bed later, until his retirement day. Now, he rose before dawn every morning, naturally.

It was all for the better. He finally enjoyed his days to the fullest, taking his time for the first time in about fourty years. He had worked hard, providing for his little family, and now he was harvesting the fruit of all this labor.

He was washing grapes, when he heard Grace moving upstairs, meaning he could crack the eggs open and start cooking them. Roger just loved to play the wannabe chef for his beloved wife. He wasn’t particularely gifted, but Grace wasn’t the difficult type.

Her soft footsteps were coming down the stairs, when he stretched up to gaze at their luscious backyard. Suddenly, he froze, the water still running between his fingers.

Gracie, Sweetheart, come here… Quick!!

Adjusting the glasses on her face, Grace entered the kitchen, obviously worried about her husband’s call.

What is it, Honey? Are you not feeling well?

Roger waved for her to join him by the sink, not turning her way at any point.

Remember how disappointed you were, that the bird bath we bought last month still didn’t get any feathery visitor, Pumpkin?

As she joined him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and she stood on her toes, to see what Roger was pointing out.

Just there, in the middle of their garden, a deer was having an early morning drink from the bird bath, right under their noses.

Roger kissed his wife’s head lovingly, enjoying the view.

Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge