"Really," she nodded earnestly, "I'm really speaking against my conscience!"
"You..." he choked with irritation before bursting into laughter.
He was not good at cooking, she had always known that. For the first thirty-something years he had never stepped into a kitchen, and maybe he wouldn't for the next few decades either. It was his lifestyle. She had never thought about changing him, nor did he need to change. However, seeing the blisters on his fingers still moved her deeply.
His fingers were very clean and beautiful. Thanks to his privileged life, they were pleasing to the eye even without deliberate care. When they had first married, she noticed the calluses on his fingertips from playing piano over the years. Eventually, he stopped playing and the calluses faded. Then, as a surgeon, his fingers developed the marks of his profession. Yet, these did not detract from the beauty of his hands. So, the sudden appearance of several blisters was quite jarring.
