Bodie uses too much soap when washing up. He overfills the sink, soaks the counters and floods the floor. He tackles this domestic task with customary mad abandon, over the top and into the enemy trenches. Broken dishes are casualties of war.

An unexpected lull in the combat catches Doyle’s attention. Bodie has captured a soap bubble and is holding it up to the light.

Doyle steps forward.

The bubble pops and Bodie turns, defensively.

This thing between them is fragile, stretched almost too thin to see. “I thought you’d dropped the soap,” says Doyle.

“I still might,” replies Bodie.

~end~