Monday's café looked exactly as it had before one relationship contained three spoken attractions. The scratched corner table remained available, ginger tea still cost too much, plus the terrible abstract painting continued leaning slightly toward the door. Familiarity made every changed detail inside our behavior far easier to notice plus feel.
Nina arrived wearing high-waisted jeans, a fitted burgundy sweater, plus gold hoops that caught the window light. I noticed the shape of her body without turning desire into pressure against our agreed sexual pause.
"You look beautiful," I said after she reached the table, keeping the compliment free from any request.
"Thank you," she replied, placing her bag beside her own chair rather than the one we usually shared.
I offered the tea I had ordered only after her confirmation arrived through messages. Nina checked the label, tasted it, plus admitted I had remembered the reduced sugar correctly.
