There were some perks to having a husband who was hearing impaired. I could slam doors without arousing suspicion
“Shaya.”
He didn’t turn around.
“Shaya,” I said louder, and walked a bit closer to where he was standing and slicing peppers.
He finally turned. “Calling me?”
I nodded.
“Sorry, battery’s low.” He put the knife down and pointed to his earpiece.
I waved. No use saying goodbye if he couldn’t hear me.
He resumed cutting and expertly added oil and salt to his salad. “Breakfast?” he asked, pointing to the bowl.
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