Imagine your otp dancing with each other in the kitchen. Too early to care and in rumpled up pajamas.
Martha smelled the coffee as she wakened in the still dark room. Sitting up on her elbow, she looked over at the clock. Six am. I'll let Issi sleep in a bit more, she thought. After she dropped a soft kiss on her husband's temple, Martha drew on her dressing gown and headed toward the kitchen, her nostrils twitching at the luscious scent.
As she approached the closed kitchen door, the sounds of music, turned low enough not to reach the bedrooms, reached her ears. She thought she heard laughter. Pushing open the door just a crack, she looked into the room.
A wide smile parted Martha's lips.
Surreptitiously, she watched while her daughter and the man who'd flown over the ocean only two days before to declare his love for her – Robert – danced. The pair swayed and pirouetted, Cora in bare feet, Robert in socks, steadying one another as they hopped around the middle island, dodging bar stools and the sneakers Harold had carelessly strewn by the refrigerator. They both wore flannel pajamas, Robert's blue and white striped, Cora's red with little white flowers. At a break before the next song, they paused, grinning and slightly panting. Robert brushed a lock of dark hair away from Cora's eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Their hearts were in their eyes.
Careful not to make any noise, Martha backed out of the doorway, retracing her steps to her bedroom. She wanted to tell Isidore – tell him that she'd never seen Cora so happy in her life.