Steak, mushrooms, a piece of bread

Back when we lived in our first apartment, I thought a nice dinner had to come with candles and a tablecloth and a thing I’d planned all week. Now it looks like this: a steak on a Thursday, mushrooms softened in the same pan, a piece of bread I broke off the loaf with my hand. I put the bread next to the potatoes so my husband would understand it was for the sauce. He understood.