"Sweep"

Hansel's duster slid across the surface of the drawer. A sunbeam set its mahogany alight, making the leftover dust glimmer. But as the feathers came by to abduct the motes, all that would be left behind was a clear sheen.

Across the room, Leona wiped down a window with her back turned to her partner. On occasion, her shadow would block the glow of dust and elicit a pause from Hansel. He'd steal a look at her silhouette, wait for the sun to strike his eyes, then get back to work.

Leona, too, took breaks of her own when the light was being meddlesome. With the sun on her face, she could only stand the glare for so long before turning away for a softer, more pleasant sight. She'd catch Hansel's fair skin glowing against the oak panels behind him. His golden hair would swish just behind him as he'd step to clear out a patch of dust, and his purple dress would follow closely.

He was a violet maid, part of the Maid Syndicate focused on the traditional practices of housekeeping and catering. As such, the uniforms were strict; even the men must wear the dress.

Not that he minded. Leona minded even less. The white apron around his slim waist gave a beauty worth seeing every day. And the glimpse of a white garter holding up his stockings-- even better, she thought.

At long last, losing bits and pieces of her body to war seemed worth it. Just as long as this would be her daily sight.

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