“I will find, and murder, the mother of these eggs.”
Shenhe stands at the kitchen counter, coated head to toe in flour. It’s caught between her fingertips and the eggshell, making her internally cringe at the feeling. Tossing another - she’s been through two already - empty egg carton to the side, egg following shortly after.
It’s not her fault separating the white from the yolk was impossible without breaking it. She had tried that life hack using a soda bottle, but then realized she didn’t drink soda. Anger boils under the surface of her skin, who did these eggs think they were?
This was no longer an issue, but a challenge.
Stupid chickens, making their eggs impossible to deal with. Fowl will die by her hands, but not today.
It’s her birthday today. Not Shenhe’s, she’s forgotten when her’s was forever ago, but yours. You remembered her birthday when she didn’t, and made a delicious lemon pie - while apologizing for making a cake - so now she must pay you back.
Flour falls around, and on, her socks as she walks back to the fridge to pull out the last egg carton. Her laptop - a birthday gift - has various websites open on how to separate egg whites.
Faintly, Shenhe can hear her phone buzz - she only has it on vibrate for your calls. It’s slightly embarrassing how quickly she tosses the egg carton to the side - praying it lands on the table with minimal cracks. She hesitates for a second, looking at your profile picture as she picks up her phone.
It’s of you and her, there’s a giant smile on your face, and fireworks going off in the background. Shenhe is gazing at you longingly.
Phone answered with a smile,
"Hello, my love."
YOU ARE READING
coated in sugar.
Fantasymy thoughts about you are frightening but precise; I can see the house on the hill where we make our own vegetables out back, drink warm wine out of jam jars, and sing songs in the kitchen until the sun comes up. you make me feel like myself again.
