Gosha rolled over. Dawn's gray light barely got through the curtains and clung to the wall. His air conditioner whirred refreshing air towards him. Yahya had bought him a new one, insisting that it was more efficient despite the cost. The two had puzzled over it for hours before Gosha called someone to help.
Gosha rolled over again. Yahya was asleep on his stomach in the other bed, a sleep mask covered his eyes. The scar on his neck was healing well, under Gosha's care. He had been adjusting rather slowly to all of the changes.
Of course, the decision to retire had its challenges for both of them. Gosha found that his previous routine was hard to shake. Oftentimes he felt an itch to do something when he was idle. Times like now.
He swung his legs out. His slippers were there to catch his feet before touching the cold wood. The wood creaked as he shuffled out of the room in his robe.
Boxes lined the hall. Most were open. The pair had been trying to figure out how to decorate. It was a challenge to balance all of Gosha's picture frames with Yahya's expensive art. He would never tell the horse but the art seemed a bit tacky. Of course Yahya probably had similar reservations about Gosha's sentimentalism.
The kitchen made Gosha the happiest. It had windows on three of its sides which allowed light in at all hours. Though it wasn't completely decorated, Gosha could already imagine having his grandson and his friends over for a meal.
Legosi and Louis had taken up the mantle as Beastars. Their new position took a lot of time out of their days but Legosi made time to let Gosha know how the transition was going. He seemed happy. It was nice hearing him passionate about something.
The two had decided against using Yahya's flat as well. Instead it was changed into housing for hybrid children with nowhere to go. Gosha made occasional trips over to play with them and read.
He filled a silver kettle up with water and put it on the stove. While it heated up he opened up the bread box, revealing yesterday's bake. He took out the braided loaf and began cutting and putting slices in the toaster. He buttered the warm ones and arranged them on a plate.
The kettle whistled to him and he turned the stove off. He poured up two mugs. The steam brought up an earthy scent as the water browned.
"Good morning." Yahya showed up in the kitchen with his own robe and slippers. He grabbed a mug and sat down at the table. "How did you sleep? Is the air conditioner ok?"
Gosha set the plate of toast down. He grabbed a large brown bowl. It's plastic exterior was scratched and worn from years of use. A lump of dough sat in the middle, protected by a screen of plastic wrap.
"Yes it works great."
He put two slices on a separate, smaller plate and brought them over to the window where pictures of his wife and child looked out over the kitchen. They watched him pray.
Yahya watched from behind. He blew on his tea and ate in silence. He wasn't particularly spiritual himself.
When Gosha was finished he joined Yahya at the table. His tea had cooled enough to drink. He grabbed some toast and took a bite. Gosha had a habit of adding sugar to his dough because it added a nice sweetness.
"What do you have planned for today." Yahya asked. He often found himself without things to do, as there was no more crime to fight.
"I was thinking about planting some of those flowers we bought."
"I don't see why you have to do that. We could just as easily hire a landscaper."
Gosha smiled. Yahya had been fighting him on stuff like this ever since they first saw the house. The horse had made no effort to hide his disgust during the tour of the place. He kept comparing the tiny rooms to the mansions they toured before. Gosha paid him no mind and kept on imagining out loud what their life could be in the dusty interior.
