It’s raining by the time I head home, and I’m soaked walking the few blocks from the station to my apartment.

Sarah’s out when I get into our third-floor apartment; I take in the coziness of the small rental and instantly relax. I’m glad to be home, surrounded by our familiar comforts, bright rooms, and our feminine haven. I’m tired; it’s been a long day, and I want to take a bath and go to bed.

I screw up Sarah’s note on the counter informing me she has made mac ...