Karin, being quite fond of all the ingredients she saw laid out, immediately set to work. Thus distracted, she did not notice Sean's momentary hesitation; if she had, she would not have understood. She would have given much to have a home that felt so comfortable, so effortlessly at peace with itself. Of late it had felt as if her own apartment wanted her gone. In sleep she had her dreams, in wakefulness the sounds and smells that drove her from within its eggshell walls: It was enough to drive anyone mad. She chewed her tongue as such thoughts crawled through her mind, sinking their talons into the peace she had only so recently found.
The more she chopped, the further along the dish seemed to come, its mouth-watering scent pervading the apartment. She had hardly felt hungry, but now she felt her appetite begin to reappear. With the edge of the knife she scraped the chopped vegetables closer toward the stove, where they might be picked up and dropped into the pan more easily.
"I don't know many men who could make an omelette look that good," she said, her voice edged with a tired, though sincere, laugh. "Your mother must have taught you well."