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It’s not hardware or gaming. It has something to do with sensor input?
I don’t know.
His parents brag about him all the time, but they don’t understand it either.
I’m almost home from a late night at the office, so I’m going to pop open some sparkling wine to celebrate.
That means your husband is also leaving the office, btw Clara.
Also, Kara, what are you doing up? Isn’t it like two am in London?
It is. The windows looking out over the city are dark, the fluorescent lights above me glaringly bright. I could be anywhere in the world with this blah décor and unremarkable view out my window. But I’m in London, where Peter and I moved in together in July.
Kara
Umm...working?
Remember Sylvie’s video that went viral? About the dress she made? Ever since then, we’ve been insanely busy. The padded bralette she talked about is our most requested item now.
I’m glad to volunteer my time with a gender-affirming clothing distribution charity, especially while I’m still building my client base in London, but damn. This is a lot of clothes to sort through and package. I thought I’d paid my dues of late nights and grunt work.
Clara
It’s because the products are awesome. And free.
They gotta get out the door somehow.
Kara
Thanks.
I do like the video consults better, but you are right; these binders aren’t going to ship themselves.
Bea
That would be a trick.
Kara
Two more packages to go and then bedtime.
Clara
When we visit next week, maybe we can help? You know, something to do while Nash and Peter are meeting with the London office.
Bea
I’ll have to see how much Nash needs me, but TOTALLY!
Kara
Thanks! I appreciate it. Okay, bedtime. See you sooooooon.
My friends go quiet, and I pack up the last of the clothing. I text Peter that I’m on my way home and climb into a rideshare outside of the building.
We drive past the fish and chips shop that Peter and I eat at when he meets me at the charity, the coffee shop where I occasionally buy breakfast if I’m hungry and running late. The buildings are all closed up and dark, like our house is when the driver pulls up on the curb.
I get out with a “thank you” and enter our house as quietly as possible. Twenty minutes later, I’m slipping into bed next to my sleeping boyfriend, gently putting my knee on the bed and easing my weight so as to not disturb him.
When I get flat on my back, I lie still. Peter’s breaths are deep and even, and I think I’ve done it.
Just as I relax, though, a warm arm bands around me. I’m pulled toward Peter and bounced around as he squirms to get through my hair and plant a kiss on the back of my neck.
“I lieb di,” he mutters. It’s Swiss-German for “I love you,” and he only says it that way when he’s half-asleep.
My heart melts for him all over again.
