AFFAIRS IN A GLASS HOUSE
I noticed movements in the kitchen, Levi stood there, by the counter going over files, as usual, in his perfect posture, his grumpy expression, unreadable.
His eyes never left the files, didn't even spare me a glance when I entered. Typical Levi.
“Good Morning,” I said.
“Mhm,” he replied, barely acknowledging me.
“Wow, such talkative today. You sure you're good? Did someone rob you of your personality?”
He didn’t respond. That nearly made me smile. Classic Levi.
I opened the fridge, searching for my favorite orange juice. “Did we run out of orange juice? Or are we living in a dictatorship system where juice is now illegal?” I groaned.