Author's Note:

Hey fan fiction readers/writers, I just read "Of Mice and Men" an excellent tale, a hopeful tragic story, just like the John Steinbeck's "The Pearl" which I read two years ago.

Here's a little one-shot set after the book. Slim has a wife. Enjoy.

She was cleaning the front parlour; her father had gifted her with a bottle of whiskey to give Slim for their third anniversary. It sat on the kitchen table, glowing in the candlelight.

Even though Slim worked for a ranch house, he did often return home to visit his wife after a long day's work. Sometimes for a short dinner, other times late at night just to see her. He loved her, and she loved just as much back.

And even over the past few days, when he was extra hard at work she sent short letters to him rather than expecting a visit. Slim was a hard worker and she knew it.

She swept the parlour; her last letter from Slim lay opened in a pile with bills and other letters from her husband. The letter had said that they were finished bucking barley for the season, and that they would be having a horseshoe tournament the next day... that was today.

She had received this letter bright and early that morning. She was glad for Slim, remembering how happy he was. He had stated in his letters about the two new workers on his team. They were hard workers, who travelled together. She had smiled at this; she knew Slim wouldn't put up with the punks that had been assigned to his team. But the looks of it, these two workers were helping out immensely, owning up to their fifty dollars a month.

Once she was done, she stowed away her broom in their simple closet Slim had built her.

Functional, easy to attend to, that's what matter. She loved the simplicity of this life; she took care of the home, and her old mother who was too weak to fend for herself.

In turn, Slim would earn his work money, and her mother had willed the house and her inheritance to them once she died.

But the most important thing that revolved around her mother's presence was that she loved both her and Slim immaculately, not the likes of some mothers who hated the man their daughter had picked and vice versa.

No, Slim was a gentleman, she had always worried about not giving enough back to him of the love he had given her, but she realized the moment that he had proposed to her, that she was worth the trouble.

The wife listened into the room where her mother slept. She had finished her dinner, and was fast asleep. The young wife smiled warmly, tiptoeing into the room and retrieving the plate to clean it up.

As soon as she had finished her dishes the door to the clean front parlour opened. Slim was home.

"Slim?" she called.

She wiped off her hands on the front of her apron. She walked into the parlour and seen him.

He was in his work clothes, as usual, but something was off. In his eyes was a look of loss, utter painful loss.

"What wrong?" she asked, looking him in the eye.

Slim didn't need to say anything; he pulled his wife into a kiss. Something he needed to relieved himself with emotionally as he held her there. His wife realized this as he gently drew her out of the embrace.

"He's gone isn't he?" she stated rhetorically, her hands placed at the base of his neck.

Slim nodded as they unravelled themselves and she lead him into the kitchen. He was going to need that whiskey.

"Honey?" Slim started, taking the nearest chair at the table and collapsing into it.

"Yes?" the wife asked, pouring his shot of whiskey and handing it to him.

"Happy anniversary..." Slim gulped down the whiskey and she began to refill the shot glass.

Author's Note:

And to think that it took the end of the book to think of this, amazing inspiration.

MG#6