36: Art

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Mitch has been watching reruns of Top Chef and Master Chef, he watches everything about cooking and laughed watching Andrew Zimmern's Bizarre Foods.

"I want to go to China. I need to taste those meatballs." He said.

Then he cried watching Anthony Bourdain crossing a river with a family.

"He wasn't young, I know that, and he looked strict but he was soft in the middle, like a falafel. He didn't need to die."

I didn't know what a falafel was but I rubbed his back while he cried over the dead chef (I guess he was a Chef even when he didn't cook in that TV show).

He cried until he fell asleep and I worked beside him sending emails and receiving them, doing some stuff in Illustrator and Photoshop. After I finished I didn't have anything to do so I watched him sleep.

He had beautiful long lashes and his lips were so full and big. I rubbed my hands on my thighs. I wanted to kiss him. I'm not as good as he thinks I am. I'm still a man in love who desires him.

He is right, why do I do this? What's my real motivation? Am I waiting for him to get better but, for what? If he gets better is he staying with me? Is he going back to Puebla? Is he choosing me now that Pablo is dead? Is that even moral or I'm being a douchebag? Would it ever be love?

I look at him again.

What a piece of art.

And I open my laptop again looking for something to entertain myself but nothing comes to mind.

I google falafel and bowls of strange brown-green balls appear.

I read about it and it shows that it's from Egypt, a deep-fried ball of chickpeas

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I read about it and it shows that it's from Egypt, a deep-fried ball of chickpeas. 

It's very interesting.

I look at him again and then I look at the time and it's very late so I take him to his room and put him on the bed.

I looked at him one last time, and because I couldn't wait anymore I kissed him.

Soft, just a peak, he would slapped me for this if he weren't asleep, because that's not ok for so many reasons. But what do I do?

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