At Last

Mia was just about to close the distance between them when Andrew turned sharply to the sink. "Alright, let's get to it, then!" he said, clapping his hands with a sudden burst of energy. The sound snapped her out of the dreamy haze she'd been floating in.

"Right! Right," Mia echoed, a little too loudly, blinking as if the spell had been broken. She spun back to face the sink, trying to steady her pulse.

They settled into a quiet rhythm, the kind of easy silence that felt more comfortable than awkward. Mia soaped the dishes, Andrew rinsed and dried. There was something soothing in the simplicity of it, the way their hands moved in sync without needing to speak. By the time the song faded out, they had finished cleaning up all the glasses and bowls as if they'd done this a hundred times before.

"I guess we can call it a night," Mia said, stepping back, resting her hands on her hips like she was trying to ground herself.