Then nodded.
“Okay. I see you.”
I went to the kitchen to make lunch.
Marcus joined me without asking.
“You’re cutting that wrong,” he said.
I paused.
“Excuse me?”
He took the knife gently.
“Like this. You’re wasting too much.”
I watched him.
Steady hands. Calm.
“You cook?” I asked.
“I survive.”
“Barely, from the look of your fridge.”
He glanced at it.
“…fair.”
+15 Pous
5/9
We stood there quietly for a bit.
dose, but not too close.
Comfortable.
Which, again, was fnconvenient.
When the kids finally went down for a nap, the house went quiet.
The rare kind of quiet that feels earned.
Marcus sat on the couch.
I stayed standing longer than I should have.
Then sat across from him.
Distance. On purpose.
He didn’t close it.


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