this

We spent the afternoon on B.’s couch working on our laptops and sipping fresh smoothies and green tea. Sun and breeze eased their way through the open windows, Pandora softly played.

As he got up to refill my teacup from the pot on the counter, B. looked over at me and said,

“I like this.”

“You like what?”

“This.”

“The tea? Me too. We’re almost out.”

“No, no, this. Our life. Together. Our little life. I like it.”

Our little life together. I like it, too.

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