2
We made dinner together in a kitchen too small for two people who'd both spent years learning to move through rooms like they owned them, elbows knocking, Maxim stealing bites straight off the cutting board while I swatted his hand away out of habit more than actual objection. He opened a bottle of wine older than anything either of us had any business drinking on a random weekend, poured two glasses, and put on music low enough that it lived somewhere under the conversation instead of over it.
"Dance with me," he said, once the dishes were cleared and the last of the daylight had gone thin and gold across the water outside.