Standing at the sink, I let the warm water run over my hands as I scrubbed the plates. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft clinking of dishes and the gentle hum of the refrigerator.
My eyes drifted out the window, where the night sky was a deep navy, dotted with stars. It was so different from the constant buzz of my desk, where papers and books lay in stacks, and the computer screen glowed like a beacon, calling me back to work.
I sighed, letting the water wash away the soapsuds, my thoughts drifting to last month at Noah’s estate. The memory was a breath of fresh air. I could still see the pond, its surface smooth and undisturbed, where we had lunch. The laughter, the soft rustle of leaves, and the sunlight dancing on the water were as clear in my mind as if I were there again.
God, I want to go back.