He finishes off her sentences. The ones she leaves hanging in the air.
A comfortable silence ensues and they use the floor space without stepping on each other’s toes.
Words said and unsaid hang around, then drop to the floor silently.
Drapes are pulled aside letting the shimmering grains of sun, slant across into the room.
He picks up the paper, scans the headlines and tosses it on the table.

Nothing sustains his interest for long.
She picks up her crocheting, lacing in the knots and crosses, lost in thought.
Two bodies, one house and two minds wrapped up in their own celluloid flashbacks and time spent.

Counting minutes and then not counting at all.
Days and nights pass on.
The breath that sustains is comforting to each other and a solace as the days go by…

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