Solitude or Love?

Part 1 of Solitude

My stomach began to grumble and light came in softly from the blinds. It was a chilly morning, I didn't feel like getting up because of being afraid to touch the sudden cold wooden floor. I stuck my arm out the covers and quickly put it back in. "Too cold," I said and rolled over. I was facing him at this time. His hair covering his eyes and little pieces of it sticking up in odd directions. It made me want to laugh, but I didn't want to wake him up.

He had been working all night, and I had been on my day off, so I was able to paint at home all day. "It's cold," he murmured. He got closer to me and laid his head in the crook of my neck. He was like a child sometimes, and that made me smile. I kissed his forehead and he kept sleeping. I wanted to stay in bed longer, but my stomach continued to growl.

I slipped a pillow underneath his head and covered him up. He flipped over and kept on sleeping. I put on my sweatshirt and brushed my teeth and put my hair in a bun. I was wearing shorts that morning, which could have potentially contributed to the reason for why I was cold.

Anyways, I slipped into the kitchen and took out the carton of eggs, some milk, a loaf of bread, strawberry jam, and some apple juice. I began to make the scrambled eggs and at last minute I decided to bring out some fancy bread, which is what I call it because I don't know the name of it, English muffins perhaps? I made my own little breakfast sandwich and I decided to add some cherry tomatoes and spinach. All ingredients were added to the pan and a satisfying sizzle came from it. "At last, the meal is complete!" I whispered. I put the little breakfast sandwiches on a plate and I ate mine while I made his breakfast bigger.

Bread slices were placed in the toaster and an even spread of strawberry jam was placed on top. I poured myself a glass of milk and added some chocolate syrup because, why not? It was Saturday morning, and it was the day to clean, so I might as well have fun with my breakfast. I put his toast on his plate with the English muffin sandwich and a glass of apple juice on a tray to take to him. I sneaked out of the kitchen ever-so-carefully and upstairs into our bedroom. I opened the door a little and saw him sleeping still. I walked in slowly and set his breakfast on the nightstand. "Wake up ya bum," I whispered into his ear. He flinched a little and squinted his eyes open. I smiled at him as he pulled me back into bed. He wrapped his arm around me and placed his head in the crook of my neck. He breathed softly and I felt the warmth of it. "Thanks, amor," he said with a slight accent. He couldn't speak Spanish, but he always tried.

"De nada," I said.