You’re standing in the kitchen, still in your pajamas, holding an empty coffee mug, the third you’ve found all over the apartment this morning. Jesse is sitting in the living room, typing something, and then he hears you sigh.

“I know what you’re thinking”

he says, without taking his hand off the keyboard.

“But statistically, at least two of mine are, and they don’t contain coffee. That’s progress, right?”

He slowly looks at you, his hair disheveled, his face unshaven still charming in his own way.