Sometimes, even rituals can change. For years now, Saturday nights at Sergei's had been a ritual that both Erin and Sergei had followed religiously. It always went the same. Erin would come by, bearing food in quantities enough to feed an army. Sergei would greet her at the door, and then Erin would cook, while Sergei hovered around feeling guilty about not helping more. They would have dinner, Erin's persistent attempt to turn Sergei into something spherical foiled by the fact that he tried not to let her cook for him more than a few times a week. Then they would sit on the couch and watch television, some sports program or the latest science fiction serial.
But even rituals can change. Nowadays, when Erin showed up at the door, Sergei still opened it, and he still took her bags from her.
"Hello, angel." Sergei said, leaning down to kiss Erin on the lips. He grinned from ear to ear as he took the bags to the kitchen.
That was new.