[i]Right hook. Left swing. Duck. Uppercut. Repeat.[/i] 

          His movements were becoming sloppy, predictable even. It was currently late in the evening and Mishka was attempting to keep himself occupied at a local fitness club, sparring with a fellow athlete in the boxing ring. His metallic dog tags clinked noisily against each other and jangled loudly (yes, he still wore them even after having left the army few months prior) with every carefully executed step and precisely thought out maneuver he made to block or counter his opponent. The man was certainly no beginner but to his utter disappointment, Mishka found out quickly enough that he lacked the skills and experience required to keep him on his toes. Another failed catch. At least it was decent exercise. Mishka landed another punch. "Alright, I'm done" the other man surrendered. Both men were sweating at this point and he himself was just about ready to call it quits.

          Three-quarters of an hour later and Mishka was in his car on the way back to home. To Amber, his one and only, no less. Several years back and just the [u]thought[/u] of seeing her at the end of a long day would have certainly lightened his mood. But now? Well now, not so much. Now they could barely survive a week without at least multiple arguments and the sad part was that most of their bickering was over small things. (Like that time he promised he would take her to see the fireworks show but ended up chickening out because the loud noises disturbed him. He never told her why and just blamed it on late-night drinking with the guys.) When did it  come to this? He couldn't say but if anyone asked he wasn't about to admit there were any problems with his marriage either. 

          Mishka had showered, changed, and even struck up some conversations with people he would have otherwise completely overlooked all in a pathetic attempt to stall. To buy himself as much extra time as possible so he wouldn't have to return so soon. Was he being immature about this? Absolutely and undeniably so. Mishka was painfully aware that he'd eventually have to cave in or otherwise risk upsetting Amber, but that didn't change his feelings of unease. It was just... Too much sometimes. 

          Mishka shook himself out and focused on the road ahead. Pulling up into the driveway before the house, he put the car in park and killed then engine. Then he just sat, staring blankly ahead. He really did not want to go inside. Not yet at least. Was Amber even home? A quick glance up through the windshield confirmed his suspicion. He released a heavy sigh. Finally mustering together the courage, Mishka got out of the vehicle and walked the paved steps towards the front door. "I'm back" he called out loud enough to surely catch Amber's attention, wherever she was.