Shrimp-Clock-Moon

As we sat behind the counter, the morning rush finally behind us, Nina leaned against my shoulder with a sigh of relief. She was quiet, her usual brashness softened by the moment. I glanced down at her, noting the faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she stared off into the distance.

I had a pretty good idea of what was going through her mind, especially when her lips quirked into a small, embarrassed smile. She probably realised how we looked right now—two people slumped together, exhausted but content, like a couple resting after their first shift at work. The thought must've embarrassed her because the blush deepened, and she shifted ever so slightly, as if to mask her thoughts.

I decided to cut through her musings by asking her about something that I've been wanting to ask about for a while now.

"You know, Nina." I said, my voice light with amusement. "We really need to talk about your texting skills."