Unlikely (H.S.)

twelve*

~Harper~

After helping Harry prepare the lasagna for his mum and sister, I decided to tidy up my apartment. I pulled on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and some boxers, feeling the fresh fabric against my skin as I prepared to tackle the mess. First, I wiped down the countertops with a citrus-scented cleaner, the fresh aroma filling the kitchen. As I moved the sponge in circles, I noticed the gleaming surface starting to shine again, a small victory amidst the day's stress. I organized the pantry items, making a list of what I was running low on and planning new videos for the upcoming week.

I then turned my attention to the living room. I fluffed the pillows on the couch and straightened the throw blanket that had been tossed aside while I had been FaceTiming Harry earlier. The coffee table was cluttered with my laptop, some notebooks, and my most recent trashy novel. I picked them up and placed them into their proper places, then giving the table a quick wipe-down to remove any sticky residue. With the apartment beginning to look presentable again, I vacuumed the floors, the hum of the vacuum cleaner a soothing background noise. I made sure to get into the corners and along the edges, removing the crumbs and dust that had accumulated. The rhythmic sound of the vacuum was almost meditative, allowing me to clear my mind as I worked.

After tidying up my apartment, a wave of hunger hit me. The comfort of a clean space was satisfying, but my empty stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten much earlier. I decided to rummage through the fridge for something to satisfy my cravings. I opened the fridge door and peered inside, hoping for a convenient snack. There was a half-empty carton of yogurt, some wilted lettuce, and a few odds and ends that didn't seem particularly appetizing. I grabbed the yogurt and spooned a few mouthfuls, but it wasn't quite enough to curb my hunger. I needed something more substantial.

My thoughts drifted to the meal I had guided Harry through, but knew lasagna wasn't what I was craving. My thoughts of Harry being home with his family in London had my mind drifting to spending time with him and going to eat with him in his home town, and ultimately had me thinking of eating traditional English meals and my mind decided that a roast dinner would be perfect. It seemed like the perfect solution—a hearty meal that would be satisfying and comforting. With a renewed sense of purpose, I decided to head to the store to pick up the ingredients I needed. I grabbed my coat and headed out into the crisp spring air.

The walk to the store was a short one, and the city streets were bustling with the usual evening activity. I enjoyed the brisk air, which felt refreshing against my cheeks. When I arrived at the grocery store, I made a beeline for the poultry section. I saw varying sizes of whole chickens, but realized that I wasn't cooking for anyone but myself. I continued to peruse the section and stumbled upon a selection of Cornish hens, each wrapped neatly and awaiting its turn in someone's oven. I picked out a plump hen, feeling its weight in my hands. It was the perfect size for a single serving—no need to worry about leftovers crowding my fridge. I also grabbed some fresh herbs, lemon, vegetables and potatoes for roasting. As I made my way through the store, I picked up a few other essentials like olive oil and garlic, ensuring I had everything I needed for the recipe. With my basket full, I headed to the checkout and paid for my items. The cashier smiled warmly as I bagged my groceries, and I returned the smile, feeling a bit better with each step.

Back at home, I put the groceries away and began prepping for my meal. Cooking had always been my escape, and regardless of what was going on in my life, cooking or baking would ease my nerves or anxieties. I set up my phone on a tripod in the kitchen, positioning it to capture every detail of the cooking process. The kitchen was brightly lit, and I made sure everything was neatly arranged for the camera. With everything in place, I started recording, trying to project enthusiasm despite the underlying tension. "Hi everyone! Welcome back to HarperHangs. Tonight, we're making a delicious Cornish hen with roasted potatoes and veggies. Let's get cooking!" I began, smiling warmly into the camera.