"When did you get home?" she asks without looking up. Late nights, no explanations. Not the first time.
"Didn't want to wake you."
"You should’ve called."
"I know." He reaches into his pocket. "I'm sorry."
An amethyst sparkles, dangling from a silver chain.
Stepping behind her, he drapes it across her collar bones. His big hands fasten the clasp surprising deftly.
The stone catches the morning light. He kisses her shoulder.
She turns and touches his neck. He winces. She sees three parallel scratches. He steps back, nonchalant. Pours his coffee. She looks down.
There’s something in the pendant setting. A reddish-brown fleck. Easy to miss. She wets a tissue and dabs at it.
There. It’s gone.
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