Stay for Breakfast — Crewneck Sweatshirt

Where do the teaspoons live?

It is a perfectly reasonable question to ask someone about whom you have recently learned several less practical things. They open a drawer. You open the cupboard above it, discover the cups, and feel the household is beginning to yield its secrets. Your sock remains missing. Its partner is waiting by the chair with the injured air of someone who arrived as part of a perfectly good arrangement.

There is no hurry, they say. You are pleased to hear this and try not to make a ceremony of being pleased. Last night was an excellent reason to get dressed. This morning is developing a persuasive case for something simpler: a broad sweatshirt, yesterday's trousers, coffee prepared while neither person is performing an especially convincing version of alertness.

You learn how they cut toast and which radio station they pretend to dislike. They learn that you take breakfast seriously and are prepared to discuss jam with someone you were kissing only a few hours ago. These turn out to be compatible interests. You eat the first slice standing by the counter, then another sitting down, because apparently the morning has room for a second arrangement.

Eventually the missing sock appears. You put it beside the other one. They ask whether you would like more coffee, and you look at the complete pair with the mild disappointment of someone whose best practical reason to remain has just been solved. Yes, you say. More coffee would be lovely.

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