She had barely slept.
She woke up drowsy, her body still heavy.
For a few seconds she stayed still.
New Year's Eve night had stayed on her like a smell that wouldn't go away.
The darkness of the street.
The distant lights of the city.
The fireworks exploding over the rooftops, reflected in the windows.
The cold that stung her hands.
And him.
Too close.
His face next to hers.
His hands that had grabbed her without thinking.
That word that had almost come out - and hadn't.
She shifted under the covers, turned sharply onto her side.
Her face warm, for no reason.
She stayed still, that feeling still on her, alive, as if it had just happened.
Then she saw the light.
A bright line under the door.
The living room.
She got up slowly, still drowsy, and went out.
He was in the kitchen.
Leaning against the table.
A cup between his hands.
Hair messy.
Shoulders relaxed.
Calm.
As always.
As if the night hadn't happened.
She stopped in the doorway.
Watching him.
The steam rising slowly from the cup.
His clean profile.
The same steady presence as always.
Yet her face still burned.
After a moment he made a small movement.
Not toward her.
Just his head, slightly, as if he'd sensed something behind him.
She held her breath.
He turned just enough.
He saw her.
His gaze dropped naturally.
To her neck.
To her shoulder.
To the collar of her shirt, slipped down on one side.
"You're showing."
Said quietly.
No tone.
Nothing else.
She followed his gaze.
Understood.
The heat rushed to her face in one wave.
She turned sharply, pulling her shirt back up over her shoulder.
"Ah-"
A half-embarrassed sound.
"Thanks."
He drank a sip of coffee.
As if nothing had happened.
That feeling hadn't gone away.
That's why, a little later, she found herself on the balcony with the laundry basket.
Cold air on her hands.
Something concrete to do.
Hang the clothes.
Don't think.
She picked up an item from the pile.
Black.
Big.
His shirt.
She shook it slightly to open it up - and stopped.
It smelled.
Not of detergent.
Of him.
Her fingers closed around the cotton without her noticing.
She held it in her hands for a moment.
The long sleeves.
The soft fabric.
The loose shape.
The door behind her opened.
She turned sharply.
He was there.
His gaze dropped immediately to the shirt in her hands.
Her face heated up instantly.
"I was hanging the laundry."
"I saw."
Simple.
Normal.
As always.
She nodded slightly, for no reason.
She turned the shirt around and hung it up, more slowly than necessary.
The fabric swayed gently in the air between them.