Whatever happened to the camel? You remembe the one, right? The camel what wandered through an office being punny about Hump Day. Is it sad that I remember the camel but not the product? Anyway, it IS Hump Day so it IS Wednesday and that means words! Yay. I brought home another Honorable Mention in last week’s Thursday Threads and here’s the prompt: *”That didn’t help him sleep.”* I have no real conext for this snippet other than we’re back in New York with the Russians.

****
Rain splattered against the window, a drumbeat in counter rhythm to his heartbeat. The temperature was falling, turning rain to sleet. Maksim sat up, punched his pillow and lay back down. The numbers on the digital clock glowed blue when he turned his head. Not even midnight yet.

She’d get off work soon, walking home in the miserable weather. He chased thoughts of her away. He found the TV remote, punched the power button. Idly, he flipped through the channels. Nothing caught his attention. He tried a hot shower. That didn’t help him sleep either. Thoughts of her kept crowding in, setting his nerves on edge.

At midnight, he gave up, got up, got dressed. He strode into the living area. Two of his men watched some football game playing on the West Coast. They turned apprehensive eyes his direction.

“Get the car,” he ordered.

One man dashed out. The other watched him. “Where we going?”

“Out, Yuri. I have an errand.”

A few minutes later, they were in his black SUV and not long after, they drove past Cacciatore’s. The restaurant was dark.

“Where now, boss?”

“Just keep driving. Slowly.”

“Who are we looking for, Maks?”

And then he saw her. So did Yuri, who quietly gave directions to their driver. They stopped beside her and Yuri got out. She looked drenched. And miserable, but she wouldn’t get in. He opened the door.

“Nicola, please. Come get in the car and get warm.”

She did. It was a start.
****

Sorry. I can’t help myself. I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress who gets rescued by her moonstruck Wolf, especially when he lives in a penthouse and she lives in a third-floor walk-up studio apartment. And yes, that is an old skool trope but hey, it’s a trope for a reason. And I’m still a sucker for it. So, writers, feel free to riff upon today’s prompt and readers, what are some of your favorite tropes?