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A Long Breakfast
18 years ago
A couple fried eggs, some toast, and I'm a culinary genius. And how. I haven't seen anyone enjoy my cooking in a long time now, but these last couple days I'd have been glad of the company. Safely. Headed back into work tomorrow. I'll improvise something; hell, gotta keep her on her toes.
She looks less tired now. Well rested; amazing what a good night's sleep and a dress that fits just too well can do to a woman. The toast is dry, the eggs sunny side down, and 'a screwdriver'. That was a new one. Russian, or something. Probably expensive.
The first conversation was the longest. Always is, they say, like a first night at a bar or a first pistol or a first girl you never married. Well, no; scratch the second one.
"You say something about work tomorrow?" Big saucer eyes, like headlights. It's too early to be poetic.
"Oh, yeah. Monday."
She blinks. "Tomorrow is tuesday."
"Right."
Wake up, Erik.
She looks less tired now. Well rested; amazing what a good night's sleep and a dress that fits just too well can do to a woman. The toast is dry, the eggs sunny side down, and 'a screwdriver'. That was a new one. Russian, or something. Probably expensive.
The first conversation was the longest. Always is, they say, like a first night at a bar or a first pistol or a first girl you never married. Well, no; scratch the second one.
"You say something about work tomorrow?" Big saucer eyes, like headlights. It's too early to be poetic.
"Oh, yeah. Monday."
She blinks. "Tomorrow is tuesday."
"Right."
Wake up, Erik.
