@caleb-ashmore Caleb & Grace's home, Dicken
Moving was always an objectively exhausting undertaking, but, in tandem with work and her father, Grace felt tired on a molecular level. While stacks of boxes still sat in the corners of almost every room, she and Caleb had mutually decided they were done for the night, and, as the sun began to set, Grace finished loading the dishwasher from dinner, finding it all-too-easy to assimilate to a new routine and all that came with it - she tried not to place too much weight in it all, into the optimism it stoked within her, but she found that, most days, the only thing she looked forward to was coming through this doorway, knowing what waited for her on the other side.
Grace dried her hands, setting the dishwasher to run, then ambled across the house to come to plod up the stairs. "Baby?" she called, not entirely sure where he managed to putter off to, and came to the top of the stairs half-expecting to see him hanging a shelf or unpacking a box or otherwise being generally helpfull. She was delighted, then, to come to their bedroom door and find him - in complete darkness, strewn across the bed, his arm tossed over his eyes. She smirked, wordlessly crossing the space between them and coming to sit next to him, then leaning back to rest so their bodies laid parallel. "I was about to say something about you being lazy for not putting the sheets on first, and then I remembered the splinters are still fresh from you, like, building this house, so I'll hold that for another day."
