One Last Look

3

She looked up from her writing.
Hours had passed.
The once sunny outside had slowly dimmed to a dusky blue summer night.
Her head felt fuzzy, she had been so focused she didn't realize how much time she lost.
She stretched, muscles complaining about how long they went unused.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"OH CHALUPAS!!" She yelled.

How could she have forgotten?!
Her small apartment was a mess, books and clothes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, couch covered in blankets and pillows strewn about.

"Just a minute!!" She called out again, glancing in the mirror.
She grimaced, she had forgotten to change out of her sweats.
Her hair was practically a bird's nest. Like a bird, she flew about picking things up and tossing them somewhere else, vainly attempting to make everything look somewhat tidy.
She threw her hands up in exasperation.
It would have to do.
She ran to the door, stubbing her toe just as she opened it to an ever-patient Ben.
Pain shot through her foot and she yelled, while hopping up and down wildly,
"CINNAMON ROLLS, THAT HURTS"

"Hey, hey, hey, it's ok Els, hold still, lemme see."
Ben put his hands on her shoulders in and stopped her hopping. He then scooped her up and investigated the injury.

"Hmmmm...." He muttered.

"Looks like we'll have to amputate..."
He said with a grin.

El smacked him gently,
"You punk!!" She exclaimed, pretending to be mad.
However, she was a horrible liar.
He carried her to the couch and set her down, like she was a delicate flower.
She glared at him, and yet failed to hide the love and laughter in her eyes as she looked upon his goofy, adorable face.
He walked over to the fridge and got two bottles of root beer and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave, while she shoved all her stuff into a pile and set up a movie.
This was always her favorite part of the week.
Every Friday night, while most couples went out for dinner or went partying, Ben and El had a tradition of having a Root Moot.
She giggled every time she said the name.
It originated before they even started dating, they were planning a movie night together and instead of saying

"We could have root beer with our movie!"

El had said

"We could have a root moot!"

How? Neither of them know.
But they both found it to be hilarious, and have used it ever since.

Soon, all the preparations were in order, and they both flopped down on the couch. El rested her head on Ben's shoulder.
She closed her eyes.
She desperately tried to implant this moment into her memory. The soft blankets surrounding her, the warmth from Ben's hand in hers. The traffic sounds outside her window. The movie in the background. With the faint taste of root beer on her tongue and the crackle of popcorn that Ben was currently munching. She felt secure. Comfortable. And she didn't want to ever forget how amazing her life was in this moment.