Short Stories

Mornings Like This

The sound of the kettle angry whistling that was followed by the scent of freshly brewed coffee that flooded the house.

A similar sound of a small stream after the pouring rain in april as the kettle poured the coffee into a beautiful decorated chinese tea cup, thumb softly stroking the indents of the painted pictures. 

The ticking sound of the gas stove igniting. The small taps that followed by a crack made by the egg that then drops in the pan and after a few minutes, the sizzling of the oil slowly fries the egg to how they see fit.

After the egg, the remaining oil is used, placing the bacon strips and keeping a small distance from the oil that jumps.

The small taps from the sound of a knife slicing away the things needed to be on the cutting board. All while the clank of the toaster bringing the now toasted bread waiting for it to be taken out.

An old antique record player gently played in the background. It was Chopin- Valse Op. 69, No. 1 in A flat Major, “L’Adieu”. 

A soft yawn was heard from their bedroom that was followed by the small creaks on the wooden floor.

He smiles feeling her small arms wrapping around him while he nicely placed the food together making it look beautiful even for its simplicity.