A slow fall

Chapter 2 - Caleb

    The Uber pulled up to a two-story house, its outward appearance similar to that of its neighbours, though the darkness made it hard to see any specifics. To be fair, the neighbourhood's architecture was the last thing on my mind right now: the first was food, the second was sleep, and the third, final, and most important was figuring out in what order.

The three of us thanked the driver as we climbed—or practically fell on my part—out of the car before walking—again, maybe too sober of a word—towards the front door.

The house's interior's cleanliness, or significant lack thereof, was unsurprising; five male University students in one house didn't scream organization and top rate hygiene. No offence.

I copied Lucas and Bates, taking off my shoes and adding them to the overflowing rack beside the front door, then followed down the narrow hallway.

The kitchen was bright, the large windows casting the room in a silver glow that was soon replaced with artificial yellow light. Plates waited beside the sink to be washed, bottles of alcohol and empty cups littered the table and textbooks lay around haphazardly.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"Yeah please, what'd you got goin?"

Lucas rummaged through his cupboards in quiet contemplation before providing me with options.

"Are you having anything?"

He thought for a moment. "I might make a sandwich?"

While he didn't sound overly sure, he'd already begun grabbing the ingredients.

"Make that two please, chef." At this point I would've eaten just about anything if only to quickly sate my hunger and then go to sleep, but a sandwich did sound good.

"Make that three."

Bates, who I'd forgotten was even in the kitchen, my focus solely on Lucas, placed three glasses of water on the counter top.

Lucas grumbled under his breath, but began making three sandwiches nonetheless. They were simple, ham and cheese—a classic—and we ate them in comfortable silence, the early hours of the morning calling for nothing more.

We remained standing, lent against the counters, as if we were in a rush to leave. The lure of a soft bed and some sleep was strong.

"These are some good sandwiches." After nodding to himself, "we did well."

"What did you even do?"

Looking downright offended Bates proceeded to list his help, "I got the plates. I put the sandwiches on the plate. All the important parts!"

"I think actually making it was the important part."

"It's important as well, that's why I said 'we' Luke. It was a joint effort"

At some point during their bickering my sandwich was gone and I looked sadly down at my now empty plate.

"Do you want me to make you another?" Isn't there a saying: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach?

I hadn't realise when the two boys had begun watching me in amusement. I wondered how stupid I looked frowning at a plate as if it had wronged me.

"No, it's okay." I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay awake long enough for him to make another. " Thanks though."

Silence blanketed us again and in the stillness of the night my mind carried on moving. I knew I was stationary, could see my legs doing nothing but hold me up, and yet my mind told me I was. I enjoyed the feeling of motion, it felt like I was on a fair ground ride—a pirate ship that swung from side to side, gentle but steadily rocking.