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For the past week, a smiley face greeted him as he wiped the mirror after his shower. She’d never own up to it, so he’d have to catch her in the act. One morning, the scuff of her slippers alerted him to her presence.
He wasn’t hiding very well, but her only focus was on her artwork. Jenny’s red, wavy hair fell to the side when she titled her head in concentration. She was clearly spending more time on this particular masterpiece. He said nothing.
When he emerged from the shower, he saw a steam drawing of the Eiffel Tower.