The last time they'd been in these same positions – he on the stoop, knocking; she crossing the hallway to answer door – a storm had hung in the air, thick black clouds massing above them, threatening a deluge, and something of that tense, electric anticipation had seemed to infect them both. They'd been uncertain with each other, both worried about saying the wrong thing.
But today had dawned clear, and though the evidence of the last downpour lingered in the wide puddles in the streets and the occasional ribbon of caution tape blocking off a subway entrance, the sky was calm, the world tinged golden with the setting sun. It wasn't nerves this time, but rather a pleasant fizz of anticipation Qebhet felt as she opened the door, and where before she'd hung back, this time she leaned in to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.
She was dressed in warm autumn colours, a long orange skirt that swished around her calves and a deep yellow top with a modest neckline and a cutout back. Her braids fell loose over her shoulders and her smile was bright as she drew back. "Much! How are you?"