Another time

Rachel

You turned the step at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, eyes following the steam as it dispersed out into the crisp air around it. There were pots boiling, cramped together on the stove, mismatched in a huddle. The steam rose and danced out into the room, like smoke billowing from city chimneys.

“Rachel?” you called out, bending forward to peer into the side room. You jumped the last step upon realising it was empty and turned towards the breeze. A blow of wind rattled the door to the courtyard, pegged back on a hook fixed to the brickwork, and you followed it out. It was chilly outside, in only your shirt sleeves, and folded arms rose to trap in what little heat you could hold.

“Oh, fucking bollocks” she called as a gust caught the cloth she was wrangling down from the line.

You laughed to yourself, catching the edge of the sheet as it blew passed you. The wind had it billowed out like a sail, making you reel it in as quickly as possible before you took off like a kite. Rachel laughed along with you, taking the bundle from you and shoving it into the basket.

“Thanks. Here, make yourself useful” she quickly replaced the bundle with a damper one, and you set about pinning it up to the line. She caught the quick glances you gave her, the fluttering lips as you reconsidered your words.

“Spit it out” she smirked, showing it was in jest rather than genuine annoyance.

“Have I told you how much I admire your honesty yet?” you replied, watching as she reached for a shirt “I came to get some advice from a woman much wiser than I”

“Ah, attempted flattery” she remarked, in a tone meant to resemble that of the wise character you’d given her.

“Hey, ‘attempted’. How dare you!”

“I should hope it was only attempted” she reached for the basket, lifting it to her hip “for I, as you well know, am a married woman”

She shot you a smile, tossing her head towards the house. The wind caught her hair, spinning it up into the air as you trundled behind her. The strands spun around It distracted you for a moment, your mind still trying to fit together the right words, the right message.

The basket was dropped to the tiles below, and kicked into the little side room you’d inspected at first. Rachel sniffed and stumbled over to the stove, kicking the slippers she’d donned out of the way. She bounced on her toes as she inspected the pots.

“What do you need?”

“Insight” you replied, trying to barge the door back into place with your hip. It clicked into frame finally and you tucked the latch through its loop, joining her at the stove side.

“Elaborate…” she held the sound and you fidgeted, picking at the edge of the counter.

“I…don’t know where to start”

“The beginning” she mumbled, more to the pots than to you.

“There isn’t really one, though, that’s the issue. There’s just a jumble of…expletives, mainly”

She huffed a laugh, replaced a lid, and guided you over to the table. She took a seat around the corner from you and leant against the table. She looked tired now you really looked, but still alight.