"Give me a minute to set the table," he said, approaching her and wrapping his hands around her waist.
Pushing him away, Cleo said, "Be quick about that, I am famished," and grabbed a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen counter before returning to the living room.
The table was quickly set, and Ethan summoned Cleo to it. They both dove into their meal after saying grace. For a moment, only the sound of their forks and knives delicately brushing across the plate could be heard before Cleo chose to break the silence.
"You never talk about your family, Ethan," she observed, holding her glass of red wine to her lips and staring at him.
"Because there's no story to tell about them," Ethan responded, raising his head from his food.
"That can't be, no one in this world is without a story," Cleo replied, as Ethan continued to eat his food.
"You once told me you lost your parents when you were young; why don't we start there?" "Tell me how it happened," Cleo went on.