Then, Our Eyes Met

The room is 15 feet across by 20 feel long.  The couch and computer are opposite the far walls.  The back computer chair faces the couch.

At the computer end, there is a 10 foot opening to the dining room then kitchen.  The couch end has a normal doorway with a pocket door.  It is always open.

I talk to the missus, who is behind me on the couch, facing the computer. Unable to actually see her.  She speaks to the back of my chair.  Not optimal but it works.  It is like talking on the phone. In the olden days when people talked on the phone.  Inflection without expression.

It is morning.  I have lounging pants and a long sleeve shirt on.  I am wearing slippers.  The missus has a sweatshirt and pajama pants. She is wearing pink Crocs.

It is a chilly morning. The heater is not working optimally these days.  Service will be here in a  few days.  The finger are slow to react still.

We are drinking coffee.  A rich French roast made smooth by an organic liquid vanilla creamer.  The coffee was just made with an Italian instant espresso machine.  Today, we have two medium length espressos in our cups.  Bold and strong but not bitter like a shorter espresso.

My cup is empty.  I turn to face the missus and chat momentarily.

She rises form the couch.

I rise form the computer chair.

Our eyes meet.  Our stare lingers for a moment.

I look towards the espresso machine.

She follows my gaze.

Our eyes meet again.

Espresso Machine.

Us.

Espresso Machine.

We launch towards the kitchen.

I have twice the distance to cover.  By back creaks.  My feet are like heavy like stones.  I try not to lose my slippers.

I race.

The missus smite in her victory places her cup on the built in warmer.  I said it is Italian, they know coffee. The missus saunters off down the hall.  I, first runner up, make my consolation coffee,  two medium length espressos.