The song was just background noise

The song was just background noise,

a low hum from the radio

in the kitchen,

while I waited for the kettle to scream.

But then, a chord,

a simple rise and fall,

and I saw you,

at the counter,

just turning your head,

a specific tilt.

My fingers trace the mug's lip,

the one with the chip I never fixed.

The light finds the fault,

a hairline crack in the glaze,

and I know,

it's not broken,

not really,

just worn,

and catches everything.