Side by side

They both stand side by side by the kitchen sink. The pipes are blocked. They called the plumber two days ago. He said he would call back to fix an appointment. No such luck. After dinner they wash the dishes using a plastic basin they fill with water. She washes the dishes, hands them over to him and he proceeds to wipe them dry with a cloth. Basic coordination involving little effort. A twig snaps at the back of his mind. And there comes the memory. Of days long gone, reaching almost twenty years back, when they started living together, at her flat, when they struggled to make ends meet and could not afford the comfort of a dishwasher. Every night after dinner the same routine. She washed the dishes. He wiped them dry. Side by side. Always side by side. They chatted about this and that. The intimate setting seemed to spur them into talking. The memory brings a big grin to his face. They are a happy couple. The thought crosses his mind that they may have been happier then. Maybe so maybe not. Reminiscing brings reality out of focus. He tells her about this silly silent outburst of happiness. Their conversation runs fluent as she washes the dishes and he wipes them dry. Side by side. He can tell she looks happy too.