Nox Et Solitudo

“How did you get home yesterday?”
Mithra gingerly sits. “Okay. Everything hurt, and I had to come up with an excuse for the hubby, but he cooked dinner, brewed tea and took care of me. He’s so adorable.” She smiles softly. “Yourself?”
“Me?” I fake a chuckle. No one makes coffee for me; I’m followed everywhere by Yorick’s ghost. Still, no need to rain on Mithra’s parade. “Same as always. Had a hot date… with my laptop.”
“And you had take-away again, because the only consumable matter in your flat is alcohol,” she accuses cheerfully.
She’s wrong. There’s coffee, too.