Just as the sun's tip started to burn the edges of the paper horizon, i awoke at the sounds of raised voices coming from inside the house. "AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU?!" and "FUCK YOU!!". Such sweet sounds. Well, there's no time like the present. I stood up, and the snap crackle pop of my bones sent a chill down my spine. Nothing new. I peered around the corner of the house and caught a glimpse of my love's wife stalking away. Good damn riddance. I plucked a single thorny rose from the bush brushing the front door, and led myself to the other side of the house. I crouched under the window of the kitchen, knees brushing the cool, dark earth and watched ravenously at where my darling pancake stood, deep in thought. Placing the delicate rose on the cream sill of the window, I brushed my fingers into the dirt beneath me, like an artist dabbing paint onto a brush. Two marks were left upon the windowsill that night, sitting beside the rose, that painted a heart. I of course knew that the pensive soul before me would know exactly who it was from, and i hurried away as quickly as i could, hot fingers gripping my burning face.
There.
It is done.
YOU ARE READING
Waffle x pancake
RomanceWaffle and pancakes as humans that find and date each other This is written by two people we each write for one of the characters
