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Soft humming filled the air, the rhythmic sound of a metal knife meeting an old wooden cutting board, transforming into a seemingly blended harmony of noise.
Sarah was just starting her diet, it was a rough beginning to say the least, but she was determined to turn around and find a better outcome. Harry was more than supportive on his own journey of rehabilitation.
“How did you want your veggies, Sarah?” he turned his head, just a fraction to glance over at his wife, who was sitting at the small dining room table flipping through a sports magazine.
“Just a little more spicy than usual,” she mumbled under her breath, too engrossed in the paragraph she was reading about tennis. Harry was making tacos, nothing special, but Sarah had requested it eagerly, so who was he to deny her such a pleasure?
Harry finished chopping the jalapeños to Sarah's liking, dropping them into a large bowl full of other vegetables to create a simple pico de gallo. After he was finished, he invited his wife to come taste the food and let it rest for thirty minutes at least. Sarah took a chip and scooped up some of the vegetables, humming with approval. She added just a little more salt before patting her husband on the back.
”It tastes incredible already.” Harry gave a cheesy grin, pressing a soft kiss to her warm cheek. Her skin was salty under his lips from an earlier session at the gym under this however, was a taste uniquely hers, almost sugary sweet.
He loved it.
”Dinner will be ready within the hour, darling.” Harry's side, brushing his hands on his khaki pants before turning to start cleaning up the residue of peppers. Sarah gave him a quick kiss before turning back to her magazine and tucking herself comfortably in the wooden chair.
Conversation flowed easily between the two, despite 10 years of marriage. There was still something to talk about, Harry was partly grateful for the abundance of conversation, but partly sorry for the constant need to inject something.
As promised, within the hour, the food was plated and ready. Wisps of steam swirled up carrying wonderful smells of cilantro and warm tortilla to her nose.
“Thank you, Harry.” Her words, soft and warm, carried the weight of gratitude, a flicker of something hopeful in her eyes. This however, was treated as an expression of delight as the food finally hit her lips. Sarah ground with the taste, thank God for Martha Stewart and her cookbook on how to season things properly.
Pleasant silence blanketed the room, the only sounds of the occasional drinking glass, scraping across wood, and the rest of the paper towels being heard. Harry liked it like this, the little bits where there was no need to convey anything other than two people who loved each other.
It really is the little things you do together.