Same seat,
Same view,
Same table,
Same food.
But the people seated across from each other were always different; a dream, a hope, a question aired.
There was always something new every morning, every day would bring some new facet into view.
Nothing changed much over the years apart from the halls got more crowded and people shifted around the couple who were left to their own devices more and more.
Nights had left their marks on them both, nothing in scar tissue, nothing in salt and pepper hair but in the looks they gave each other. Breakfast was a dance, one that many observed with quiet grace, none really knowing when it had become such a beautiful thing in simple beauty.
Like the Japanese tea ceremony, they had their order to the thing, the peeling of fruit, the drinking from each others mugs, checking the other over with barely disguised love that had been a constant for more years than anyone could mention.
Breakfast was the most important thing of the day and they were always one of the last to leave the dining hall no matter what time they got there. Only when they parted ways for their day did the new thing happen, to be picked up again at lunch in the garden.
A constant only recognised as such when they stopped coming home, then the day was just like any other but when they'd been there, there had always been something new to look at or think about.
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