Something

The people in the deli had all sorts of theories about the English couple: maybe the black-haired man was a soldier, or the blond a sailor, and they only got to see each other every other weekend. It would explain the infrequent, regular visits; it would also explain why they couldn’t stop touching each other, looking at each other like that. When the one with the glasses would go on tip-toes to reach for a tin, and the other would roll his eyes, so fond even the tomatoes blushed—there was just something about them, everyone could see. Something… magic.

For@domaystic‘s day 23. Find all ofRobin’s Domaystic Drabbles here!