Consider this, a nude-a-wed couple gets into an argument one morning.

It starts off as a petty squabble about a clogged-up drain, but ends up becoming a guided

tour of every single issue that has ever plagued the relationship.

Insults are heaved. Parental comparisons are made.

Reoccurring themes are established.

When all is said and done, the two parties march off to separate sides of the apartment and quietly seethed.

Yet the anger doesn't last long.

As a lazy Sunday morning turns into a lazy Sunday afternoon, the words used in the bloodletting seem overly sharp.

They both feel kind of guilty.

She sprawled out on the bed with a book, re-reading the same paragraph for the seventh time.

When he peaks into the bedroom, she pretends not to notice him.

He is about to apologize, but he's a bit too proud for that.

Instead, he offers an olive branch.

Are you hungry?

She shrug.

Kinda. I'm going to Pavles. She shrugs, kinder.

I'm going to Pavles, you want something?

Chipotle cheeseburger and a soda, she bats her eyelashes.

I love you, he blurts out, surprising himself. I love you, he blurts out surprising himself.

I love you too, she says, going back to a book.

It isn't until he's in the elevator that he realizes he didn't have breakfast. His mouth waters with the thought of

Pavlesbystro's Chipotle cheeseburger. The image of his future lunch looms in his mind's

...