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The sheets concealed Canela perfectly and feebly, forming an S shaped silhouette just enough to cover her in the appropriate places.
It had been a rough night, and that could be seen from the little makeup that she forgot to remove the night before. Her lips still maintained its pouted posture, lathered with red lipstick from the new Revlon campaign 'Fire & Ice'.
Canela had awoken in a fright from the sharp smell of bacon coming from the kitchen. This caught her off guard, being that mother was long gone dead in the ground. No one was allowed to touch the stove but her. Unless Canela was in trouble. Only then did she make it hot and steamy.
Canela leisurely rose up, engulfing herself in one of her fuzzy pink robes. Creeping down the steps, she was careful not to startle whomever was downstairs. The only person she could remember seeing last was the strange man; Sebastian.
Not too much to her surprise it surely was him, this time sporting a white wife beater and a kitchen rag across his right shoulder. His dress shirt and jacket were hanging on the back of the chair. Mothers chair.
His hands, somehow firm but tactful, were busy flipping what seemed like an egg. From Canela's distance, it seemed of nothing more than a piece of matter flowing about. But he made it look so good. When he set it down, he'd bite his lip just enough and get busy with something else, flexing his muscles here and there. It was as if he knew someone was watching him.
Canela found it best not to stare and muster the courage to walk down the steps to greet her newest customer.
"You know, you could come down here and talk to me." She'd heard him call, never looking up at her.
Canela gulped, doing as was asked.
"How long has he known I was there?" She wondered.
"What do you think?" He asked.
Canela shuddered. Was he reading her mind?
"Erm..." She trembled.
"Well, it's a simple question darling." He affirmed, pointing to one of the two plates he had made for breakfast.
"Oh...about breakfast..."
"What else would I be talking about?" He sounded, almost as if he knew she were uneasy about something he couldn't see. Something she wouldn't let him see.
To clear the embarrassment coating her sepia tinted skin, Canela reached for the wooden chair to sit down. Sebastian, of course beat her to it. His cool breath, once again glazed her neck as she sunk slowly into the seat. The feeling of him watching her sent her into a state of apprehension, where somehow she was prepared to vault into his skin and finally become one with him right there on that kitchen floor.
