A dim light is coming from the kitchen through the gap under the door. Freya smells freshly made coffee and pastries. She gets out under a soft blanket and wears an oversized white shirt. It smells like lilies.
She pushes the door slightly - the kitchen has soft greenish walls, a hardwood table, and clean windows. He's leaning against the counter, half-drank coffee, still hot. Elia's face is just shaved, still damp. He looks younger, his cloudless blue eyes catch hers. He watches her with a half-smile. The one that used to make her stomach turn.
"Come here." He says, voice is deep, inviting.
And she does, without further thought. She missed this flat so much. It was not bigger than hers, but the earthy color theme and large flowers in every corner made it so dear to her.
Freya slides
