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an excerpt from a work-in-progress
they ate breakfast together: an omlettle he made filled with spinach and cream cheese and tomatoes and a bagel they split with salmon and more of the cream cheese and some capers she went back to the fridge for. they amused themselves discussing what capers are and how they came to be in jars at upscale markets for them to buy and eat on bagels with salmon. he liked to think they came from the sea somehow, and she assured him they were really little berries of some sort of fragrant bush. she fished the capers out of the tall jar as they talked and ate more than usual, something about their brininess described a hunger for her that she didn’t know she had, and then filled it. they drank steaming mugs of rich coffee with cream (and two sugars in his). she loaded the dishwasher and wiped off the counter while he cleaned the coffeegrounds and little spills from the coffee pot. the sun shone cleanly into their white kitchen and onto their bodies as they moved about their tasks and then they kissed one another and left for work, him to an office in town and her upstairs to her office where she worked as a freelance ad designer. it was a perfect morning. it was the perfect morning.
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