My Morning Coffee - unasked for.

That morning I heard coffee being poured from the French press. Two cups. One, a fan. The other, not so much. The sound was ordinary, daily, splurry one. But all at once, I related it to the sound of the home that I built with you.

And then, just like that, in the middle of ordinary life, I knew what my home sounded like. Love, made audible in coffee pouring.