What a mundane thing, doing the dishes. 

 Sabrina wiped another plate clean, standing in front of my little sink, in my little house. 

 She was a petite human, with curly, short hair. The sink was probably a normal size to her. My house, big. Her pale skin contrasted with her orange dress. I like to match the seasons, she’d said. In fall, you must wear orange.

 I sat at my small kitchen table, observing her. I wanted to tell her she was putting the plates in the wrong pantry. I almost did, in fact. 

 She was doing my dishes. Nothing to complain about. 

 She picked up the sponge, put an unnecessary amount of soap on it, and wiped the mugs in the sink clean. 

 “You must drink a lot of coffee,” she said. There were four mugs dirtied, and nothing else remained. “You live alone, don’t you?”

 “Yes, I do.” I responded. “Yes, I do.”

 I figured she was lonely. We’d been on one date, just 20 minutes prior. I mean, when she asked me if she could come back to my place, I kind of assumed that meant sex. 

 She was doing my dishes. Nothing to complain about. 

 “I like coffee,” she continued. “I mean, I like to have a lot of sugar and cream with mine, though.”

 I sat there and wondered how she knew I didn’t like cream.

 “Sorry, I know that sounds weird,” she laughed, reading my mind. “I looked in your fridge for a snack when you were in the bathroom. I just noticed you didn’t have any cream.”

 She was doing my dishes. Nothing to complain about. 

 “I like my coffee strong. It doesn’t wake me up when there’s too much cream.”

 “Yeah, that makes sense.” She stopped for a moment, looking at the spot on my ceiling that had begun to mold. “But, if you only add a little, it’s still strong. Plus, the flavor is more bearable.”

 “Yeah, but I like my coffee bitter.”

 “Suit yourself,” she said, her mouth twitching slightly on the left side. She put the mugs where the plates were meant to be. 

 My eyes began to twitch in response, frustrated with the lack of control I felt. Almost as though I had been married for 20 years, she told me how to like my coffee and she changed the order in my house. 

 She changed the order.

 She was doing my dishes. Nothing to complain about. 

 “I think I’d like to be alone tonight.” I surprised myself with the words. I knew I was feeling them, but I didn’t think I’d say them. “If that’s okay with you, of course. I am just tired.”

 “Oh,” she said, her head turning to face me. She seemed disappointed, but I didn’t care. “Yeah, that’s fine. I had fun tonight.”

 “So did I,” I lied. “Let’s do it again.”

 She walked to my front door, a mere 7 feet away from the sink, and slipped on her shoes. She turned to face me one last time, expectation in her eyes. 

 I think she wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t. 

 “Next time I see you,” she said, a smile rising from the side of her mouth. “I’ll bring you some creamer.”

 “Sounds great,” I replied. 

 She looked at my coat hanger, located to the right of the front door, and moved both of my Giants baseball caps to the less visible side of the rack. 

 “More room for jackets,” she said. “Plus, baseball isn’t all that exciting.”

 I weakly smiled as I pulled the door open. I gestured with my hand as I told her to have a wonderful night, and I watched her walk down the steps as I lied that I would call tomorrow.

 “Might want to sweep these,” she said. “The leaves are a tripping hazard.”

 She was doing my dishes. Nothing to complain about.