Noah stood next to Miryam at a table in the food preparation area of their home hoping to distract her. The aroma of fresh-baked bread filled the room. Four and a half centuries of marriage hadn’t tempered his affection for her, and with good reason. Except for a few gray hairs, she hadn’t aged, her thin lips soft and moist, her olive skin still smooth and without flaw. He wrapped an arm around the waist of her maroon tunic and drew himself in, burying his nose in her hair. The smell of lilac mixed with the yeast made for an enticing fragrance.
“Trouble in the square today?” Miryam batted his hand away from the bread.
“What makes you think that?”
She looked up from the table where she pitted some dates.
“Those two.”
Across the room, Shem stared out the window of their home just outside the city, while Japheth paced the room.
“Some men wanted to stone me.”
“Oh, is that all?” Miryam smirked and raised her eyebrows before returning her attention to the dates.

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