He pushed through the door after a very long day.
“You’re feeling better,” he called out as a greeting.
“Hmm?” She barely looked up. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hunched over her ukulele, experimenting with different chords, trying to find the right one. He knew better than to think she’d heard him.
“You must be feeling better. You’ve got your uke in your hands,” he kissed her on the forehead. He also knew better than to interrupt when she was having a moment with her uke.
“I’ll start dinner?”
He smiled to himself, “Yeah, I’ll start dinner.”