You wake to the smell of coffee brewing. You sit up in the bed, yawn, and look over at the window, confused. The moon is up. It must be late.
You get out of bed and wander through the apartment. You find him in the kitchen shirtless and wearing your pajamas. He stares intently at your coffee machine.
“Can’t figure out how to turn the damn thing off,” he says.
You flick an obvious switch. He blushes.
“Sorry, I’m a luddite.”
You laugh. Touch his arm. It’s ok. He comes closer. His socked feet shuffle on the wood floor.
*Quoted lyrics—and the idea for this short—from Karen O.’s “The Moon Song”
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