Nothing had changed. At least nothing too drastic where their lives solely revolved round the other. It was a gradual realisation that their daily routines were not the same as those from a year ago.
Fishing in his wallet to give money to his waiting assistant, Phoenix had found Maya no longer asked him where he went during lunch. She smirked leaning over to punch him in the arm as they both left for lunch.
Phoenix's fitness had also lacked in concern from the bicycle often in use towards the prosecution offices. The pants that used to escape his mouth in urgency of a stable breathing pattern, were almost inaudible as he climbed the twelve floors to the prosecutor's office – and another twelve on the way down.
Unasked questions, after court, where Miles no longer offered the lawyer a lift in his car, instead the two merely carried their conversation and slipped in their designated seats.
Complexity had fallen, or rather it had never seemed to be there.
When the question arose they had found themselves wrapped limb over limb, a soft kiss passed on lips, already caught in something other than professional. Yet, neither voiced nor thought of discomfort.
Compared to the absurdity of their working lives, their personal lives was simple and washed over in casual banter and affectionate touches.
