tanuno
Well-known member
[LmAnt] - Trading - 17
The kitchen was really only a few steps away from the bathroom.
I flinched briefly when a motion detector switched on the light in the hallway as soon as I moved in.
But then I was already at my destination and quite taken in by the brittle charm of the room, which immediately reminded me of my great-aunt Carla, who had spent half her life at the cooker, spoiling the family with delicacies.
It wasn't the same kitchen, but the style was very similar.
Practicality that they had tried to brighten up with a bit of decoration and natural materials.
I felt strangely ... at home.
I was also taken with Sean, who was standing at the cooker making pancakes and who had already set the table in the meantime.
It looked and smelled wonderfully like...Sunday breakfast!
Bizarre on the one hand, but on the other...it helped me a lot to accept my current really strange situation as “the new normal”.
He turned to me as I entered the room and gave me a slight smile.
“I see you've made yourself a little more comfortable,” he stated succinctly, without me being able to hear any judgement.
Then he moved one last flatbread onto a plate and nodded towards the table.
“Sit down,” he asked me kindly, “I hope there's something for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I'm sure there is.”
I was as hungry as a lioness, even if I only realised it now.
“It all looks great,” I added when I saw that there was even a small vase with a fresh flower on the table.
“Good,” he smiled and put the plate of pancakes down, “then help yourself!”
He then poured us fresh coffee and waited politely until I had sat down to join me.
He gave me time, which I used to neutralise the taste of toothpaste with a little orange juice, while he polished off his first patty.
“They're great,” I said honestly as I followed suit.
“Old family recipe, ... from my grandmother,” he returned, chewing.
“They're the best,” I chatted on. He nodded, and I immediately realised how the ridiculous banality of the situation calmed my nerves.
I carried on eating and after no more than five minutes I had finished my second pancake and was on my second glass of juice when he put his fork down and looked at me, still friendly but now more serious:
“How are you feeling?” he wanted to know, and it sounded genuinely interested.
“Better,” I replied, a little surprised, but also pleasantly touched.
“Much better,” I added, because it was true.
“Good,” he nodded.
“Then are you ready for what is probably the craziest, and definitely the most dangerous story you've ever heard?”
The kitchen was really only a few steps away from the bathroom.
I flinched briefly when a motion detector switched on the light in the hallway as soon as I moved in.
But then I was already at my destination and quite taken in by the brittle charm of the room, which immediately reminded me of my great-aunt Carla, who had spent half her life at the cooker, spoiling the family with delicacies.
It wasn't the same kitchen, but the style was very similar.
Practicality that they had tried to brighten up with a bit of decoration and natural materials.
I felt strangely ... at home.
I was also taken with Sean, who was standing at the cooker making pancakes and who had already set the table in the meantime.
It looked and smelled wonderfully like...Sunday breakfast!
Bizarre on the one hand, but on the other...it helped me a lot to accept my current really strange situation as “the new normal”.
He turned to me as I entered the room and gave me a slight smile.
“I see you've made yourself a little more comfortable,” he stated succinctly, without me being able to hear any judgement.
Then he moved one last flatbread onto a plate and nodded towards the table.
“Sit down,” he asked me kindly, “I hope there's something for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I'm sure there is.”
I was as hungry as a lioness, even if I only realised it now.
“It all looks great,” I added when I saw that there was even a small vase with a fresh flower on the table.
“Good,” he smiled and put the plate of pancakes down, “then help yourself!”
He then poured us fresh coffee and waited politely until I had sat down to join me.
He gave me time, which I used to neutralise the taste of toothpaste with a little orange juice, while he polished off his first patty.
“They're great,” I said honestly as I followed suit.
“Old family recipe, ... from my grandmother,” he returned, chewing.
“They're the best,” I chatted on. He nodded, and I immediately realised how the ridiculous banality of the situation calmed my nerves.
I carried on eating and after no more than five minutes I had finished my second pancake and was on my second glass of juice when he put his fork down and looked at me, still friendly but now more serious:
“How are you feeling?” he wanted to know, and it sounded genuinely interested.
“Better,” I replied, a little surprised, but also pleasantly touched.
“Much better,” I added, because it was true.
“Good,” he nodded.
“Then are you ready for what is probably the craziest, and definitely the most dangerous story you've ever heard?”