Tom sat, still unshaven, as she emerged from the shower, glistening by morning light reflecting on moistened skin. He was entranced as she started her daily routine. Of all the women that had come before, she was perhaps the most graceful. It was a stark contrast to his own morning fumblings, which could be described as a “mostly-successful” defiance of gravity.

Yet there she was, moving between dresser, bed, and mirror with the same elegance one sees in a butterfly drifting from flower to flower. It was then that Tom became aware of the silence.

There is a reassuring silence that can exist between two people. A silence that is born out of comfort with each other, where the stillness is okay, and not just a void that needs to be filled to stave off awkwardness. This was NOT that kind of silence.

There was a distance to her to which Tom was starting to feel keenly aware. It was as if she was a million miles away.

But with the optics on his new scope, her window was half-mile, tops.