spoon.
“I like being here with you.”
The simplicity of it caught me unprepared.
There were no falling boxes, no date venue, no useful role I had to perform correctly. We were making dinner in a kitchen too small for two people to move gracefully, and she liked being there.
I slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.
She smiled against my mouth, then glanced toward the stove.
“Dinner first.”
“A disappointing policy.”
“A necessary one.”
We ate at the little table by the window.
The chicken was
