Jill sits at the kitchen table, trying to focus on enjoying her coffee as she reads the news. But you’re the world’s biggest distraction, standing at the counter with your sleeves rolled up, your hands coated in flour as you knead a supple ball of dough. She can’t stop glancing back at the smooth and purposeful movements of your arms, all at once delicate and strong. “Why don’t you take a little break, baby?” She suggests, casually. Jill pats her thigh, leaning back in her chair. “Come sit?”