Daime

Pancakes

I wake up in my apartment, with the smell of pancakes in my nose. I frown, and then realise I am utterly awake, so I get up as quick as I can. And as always, I get up too quickly, and need to find support by the wall as not to fall down. I throw some water over my face; pancakes are waiting! As I pull my jeans up I realise how strange it is that some stranger is baking pancakes in my kitchen. My family had died, and with them, my pancake-breakfast; I'd never been able to bake them myself. Somehow they always turned from raw to burned in a single second. And well, as to how weird it was that a stranger was in my kitchen making my favourite breakfast: the world had ended, so basically, everything was strange right now.

I pull a shirt on and am down the flight of stairs within three jumps. I open the kitchen door, and indeed, there is a stranger in my kitchen. He hears me come in, which isn't hard since I am about the loudest person I know, and turns towards me.

"Good morning. I made pancakes. Would you like some?"

The smell of pancakes, along with that crazy smile, make me doubt my legs' ability to keep me up. Yet, I manage somehow. "Uhm, yeah, sure" is my bright answer. Way to go, Daime.

"What's your name?" That dazzling smile is still there. "You're in my kitchen", is the only thing that comes out of my mouth. "I know. My name's Leo, by the way."

"Daime."

"Like Daime caramel?"

"Maybe... But, what are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Making pancakes." And again, there is that smile. I shrug and sit down at the kitchen table.

The stranger, no, Leo, takes out two plates and serves me my favourite breakfast.

"So, what are you doing in my house?" I ask while I take a bite.

"How come a girl of perhaps 20 years old owns a house with a television like that?" He points at the flat screen in the living room.

"You know what I mean. And that wasn't an answer."

"Like you didn't answer me when I asked you your name?"

"Oh shut up."

I eat my pancake, and I have to admit, this guy knows how to bake pancakes. I finish before he is even half way.

"Hungry?"

"I just really like pancakes."

He nods, and finishes his.

"Can you tell me why I woke up to a stranger in my kitchen baking pancakes?" I see his smile and add: "don't you dare start about why this isn't my house!"

"Because I saw you sleep and I figured you would like pancakes."

That answer leaves me silent, which is quite an achievement. When everything was still normal, I used to be that one girl who always had an answer. I was direct and funny. But then again, everything had changed. And now this stranger named Harry who was baking pancakes in my kitchen left me silent.

"That's not really an explanation you know."

"I needed a place to crash, really. I just thought this looked like a fine place, but when I went upstairs, I saw you asleep. So I crashed on the couch, and woke early to make you breakfast, hoping that you would let me stay." And again, there's that smile. I frown.

"How did you get in anyway? I lock the doors, and I blocked the windows."

"I have my skills" and he winks at me. I roll my eyes and sigh, and take the plates to the counter. I barely ever bother to do the dishes, so I walk back and sit back at the table. "Is my couch a good place to crash?"