Jet Black Hearts / l.h.

𝟐𝟓

Wednesday, October 30, 2018
5:00 a.m.
The Raye Residence

The sound of the pancake batter cooking and the birds chirping outside fill the room as the sweet aroma of the pancakes waft through the brisk morning air. Somehow I never forgot how to make pancakes, even though the last time I did I was ten. It's actually not that hard; just throw some ingredients into the bowl and cook it up over the stove.

I turn a piece of a cooking pancake over to check how done it is. The bottom and top are both golden, so I flip the pancake onto a new plate and set it off to the side on the counter. More batter is put onto the hot pan.

The wooden floor creaks and I turn. Mom is in the doorway of the kitchen. Her hair is in a bun and she's still in her pajamas.

Mom glances at the plates stacked with pancakes.

"What are you doing up this early?" She groans, her eyes slowly making their way back to me.

I turn my back to her and flip the pancake on the stove. "Making breakfast."

She walks over, her feet clad in plain white socks, and lifts a pancake with her fingers.

"How much breakfast are you making? There's only two of us and there are-"

"Seventeen pancakes," I recite. "Eighteen after this one is done."

Mom gapes at me. "And what are you planning to do with all of these pancakes, exactly?"

I shrug. I hadn't thought much about it. I originally had one batch of pancakes, but then it didn't look like enough, so I made some more and then some more. I didn't know what to do when I ran out of batter, so I kept making more.

"We can always have leftovers."

She sighs and runs a hand down her tired face. "This is so bizarre," she mumbles, then says, "Why are you even up so early?"

I point to the stacks of pancakes. "Breakfast."

"That's not what I mean and you know that," she scolds.

I pull the pancake off the pan and onto the plate, on top of the last pancake.

"I couldn't sleep so I didn't know what to do , so I went on tumblr, but then my phone died, so I decided that it was late enough in the morning that I could make some breakfast, and all I know how to make are pancakes."

More batter goes on the pan. Mom sighs and reaches out, turning it off.

"Hey-"

"Does this have something to do with your medication?"

I stop. Mom waits for a reply.

"The sleeplessness does," I say. "But I don't think cooking is a side effect." I reach towards the knob to turn the stovetop back on, but mom catches my hand.

"Just stop," she breathes. "It's too much for me to handle this early in the morning. Just, go back to bed or something."

I frown. "I can't sleep." I literally just told her this.

She rubs her eyes and yawns. "Then just stop making so much noise, please. I need to get ready for work and I have this major headache."

My brow furrows. I wasn't making much noise, anyways. The birds on the other side of the window were louder than me.

I look down and turn away. "Sorry, I'll keep it down."

She stretches. "Good."

She walks away to get ready and I hear a door open and close.

I glance at the mountains of pancakes and a thought pops into my mind. However, I push it away as soon as it comes. I would've taken some pancakes over to Luke's house, but he wouldn't eat them. It would make him anxious and his smile would go away, and I don't want that.

I glare at them.

They end up in the trash.