The kitchen clock ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Ezra sat at the table. The milk spill was gone, evaporated by Lena's breath, but a sticky residue remained. He scraped it with his thumbnail. Scritch. Scritch.
Lena stood in the corner. Shadows pooled around her feet. She didn't cast a shadow anymore. The light bent around her.
Ezra stopped scraping. He looked at her. "You haven't moved in six hours."
"Movement is inefficient," Lena said. The voice didn't come from her mouth. It vibrated from the floorboards.
"You need to rest," Ezra said. He stood up. The chair legs screeched against the tile. He walked to the sink. He turned on the tap. The water roared. He washed his hands. He dried them on the towel. He hung it up.
Routine. Normalcy. Things humans did.
Lena watched the water drip from
