Short Story

Storizen Magazine - - Contents - - Sagar Singh

He woke up when the sum­mer sun sneaked in through the win­dow on his face. Sometimes he wished he hadn't put the bed right by the win­dow. The white drapes flut­tered with the sum­mer breeze as if call­ing for him. He looked at her and re­called how beau­ti­ful last night was. She was still sleep­ing and he ad­justed her blan­ket slowly drag­ging him­self out get­ting his pants on. He had rented this house 6 months back and it was just one big hall di­vided into a kitchen and a bed­room by a huge book­shelf. In front of his bed on the wall was a flat-screen which was hardly ever used, only when friends were over. There was a sofa in front for the same rea­son. He made his way to the kitchen and washed his face in the sink. The heat seemed to in­crease rapidly. He wasn't the so­phis­ti­cated type when it came to triv­ial things. Filled the ves­sel and put it to boil, mix­ing some eggs.

"How dare you leave me alone in bed?" she asked lean­ing on the shelf look­ing at him.

She was in his white shirt which per­fectly hung on her body show­ing glimpses of her black lin­gerie. She didn't bother to but­ton it all the way.

The hu­mid weather catch­ing on to her as drops of sweat sur­faced on her neck and fore­head. Her eyes with a hint of eye­liner were the most se­duc­tive part of her, he thought. It was hard for him to re­sist him­self from pulling her into his arms and giv­ing her rea­sons to sweat a lit­tle more. She snapped her fin­gers wait­ing for an an­swer.

He slid her cof­fee and smiled.

"I thought break­fast in bed would please you. Looks like I'm wrong."

She loved how he knew, food was her weak­ness.

"If you are mak­ing grilled cheese and scram­bled eggs, you are right."

He mo­tioned to­wards the eggs he was mix­ing and the sliced bread pieces. She winked and made her way back pick­ing the book she was reading last night. She ad­justed the fan to­wards her. Lay­ing on the bed, she faced the kitchen, sneak­ing glances while he was busy mak­ing break­fast.

And in that in­stant they both thought to them­selves, 'God, I love you.'

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