Tight deadlines kept looming in. Her planner looked disgruntled with over-booked appointments. Work was almost always on her mind.
He was working on his PhD in Philosophy and had gotten used to having conversations with Descartes and Nietzche at the dinner table.
It was 8:30pm. She stepped into the apartment and walked straight to the kitchen, scrolling through the New York Times on her iPad. She gave him a wry smile, mechanically picked out a pack of frozen selects and dumped them into the microwave.
“Wow! They’re expecting a complete power outage in the city tonight!!” she gasped, mentally calculating the amount of work she had left until the next day.
He reached out for the first drawer but couldn’t locate the torch or the spare candles that were still there before her last birthday. She panicked and grumbled, irritated at him for not being prepared for this in time.
He came over to her side and held her by the shoulders, concerned that she might trip over the paraphernalia in the dark. They stood there in complete silence, which was only broken by the soft whistles of the wind that came from the draft above the kitchen table.
He calmly pulled out his cellphone as his guiding light, and rummaged through the refrigerator for baby spinach, plum tomatoes, red onions and cottage cheese, dicing the ingredients before they were tossed in with olive oil and some seasoning.
He poured two glasses of zinfandel with their meal, and switched on her eReader.
Eating quietly with make-shift candles in the dark, they sat there in absolute serenity having a meaningful iPad-light dinner.