When Aaron poured water, she tapped his wrist. “Not that full, darling. We don’t drown our glasses.” He corrected his pour with a small, boyish grin, received a satisfied nod, and exhaled like a student being awarded a good grade despite minor mistakes.
Conversation came preset, too. Health, work, and weather were the only topics under discussion. The laughter was genuinely pleasant, if controlled and curated. Evelyn was telling a work anecdote when, midway, the woman said, “Breathe in through the nose; it projects calmness.” Aaron inhaled on cue, a reflex born of years of devotion.