“What’s the crisis!?” Leah called from the kitchen hoping he remembered to separate out her delicates.
“It’s stuck on spin!”
“Press the button!”
“Still spinning!” he pestered again.
“Turn it off!”
“Won’t turn off!” he shouted, chipping away the last of her patience.
“Alright, I’m coming! Keep your pants on!”
Slipping from his washer mount, he caught Leah in a surprise kiss when she opened the door.
“Mhm…something’s poking me,” fussing with zippers.
“Just wait,” he replied as he pushed her up onto the ledge of the washer; her heavy dress slipping between the tangling joints of their bodies.
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