She was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking her afternoon coffee. He came into the apartment, flashed her a smile, came over, kissed her hello, they talked about how was your day it was fine, and then he sat opposite her. Got on his phone.
“I gotta log the muffin I had on the way over,” he said, “240 cals.”
She watched his quick finger, slender hands, the long sleeves of his sweatshirt covering his wrists, his arms, his chest. She felt almost tearful with happiness feeling his closeness.
“Oh, Kanye tweeted,” he chuckled, “This guy is insane.” Then he got off his phone and looked at her. “Hey, coffee is a good idea.” He got up and made himself a cup.
She watched him work in the kitchen with smooth decisive movements, like a well practiced dance. She noted all the little quirks, like the way he put two spoons of coffee in, and then just a little bit more for good measure. He then rejoined her at the counter.
“I got a kink in my neck,” he said, “Must have slept wrong.”
And after he finished his coffee:
“I’m gonna play some Xbox, okay?”
He went over to the couch and she watched him hop into place and grab the controller. She smiled and her lips touched the coffee cup. It was not hot anymore, slowly cooling to become one with the evening air outside and, eventually, all of creation.