The first morning we woke up in the same apartment without it being a choice made the night before — just the ordinary fact of it — I lay still for a moment and catalogued what was different.
Answer: everything. And nothing. Simultaneously.
The light was the same light. The city outside was the same city. The coffee smell was going to start shortly because he was already awake, which I knew from the mate bond's morning frequency and the absence of him beside me.
I went to the kitchen.
He was at the window.
Coffee on the counter. Mine, ready.
He looked at me when I came in.
I looked at him.
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
This was new and it was not new and both of those things were true at once and neither needed to be spoken.
I picked up my coffee.
Stood beside him.
