You're a born again, Spirit-filled man of God. You love Jesus, your family and your life. You've spent much time among sailors, tradies and pub crawlers, while managing to not give in to the temptation to drink yourself stupid and jump in every bed a girl will let you into.

But you still sometimes wake up, like you think most men must, with the blazing urge to make wild, passionate love to a beautiful woman. One with skin the colour of the cocoa you drank as a kid, hair the beautiful, curly black of ink, and eyes that always seem to be darker and richer than the day before.

But you're going to have to wait until after she has the baby.

You smile, pulling your wife's blanket higher up as you kiss her cheek gently, not wanting to wake her so early. Her sister and mother are staying over, now that the baby (her baby, YOUR baby!) is so near. They'll make sure your family has breakfast and your kids get to school. Jason is eight and Joseph is five. You'd considered, even planned on homeschooling them, but it's too much for your wife right now, while busy being a pregnant housewife.

You cup the side of her face, despite the risk of her waking. She moves, her cheek presses into your hand, her mouth opens a bit.

She's so beautiful. God knows you love her.

You're dressed in boots, baggy pants tucked into them, waterproof. You're wearing a sleeveless jacket over your muscle shirt.

Maybe you need more muscle...

You smile and shake your head. Dad bod shirt doesn't have the same energy.

You put your cap on and leave, locking the door of your home behind you. The tram gets you to the docks not long after. You sip a brewed coffee on the ride, everyone else looks ready for office jobs or labor, no middle ground. It's before dawn so. The sun isn't even a glow when you open the door to the office by the docks.

(Cont.)