雨水 [19] / [35]
It was a very cloudy, dark, snowy Saturday morning. He got up in a very tired condition. He could remember the dream from last night vividly. Actually, the night he spent with Sarah was of unbounded pleasure and excitement.
But in proportion to how pleasurable the experience was, the shock and horror he felt in the aftermath weighed far more heavily on his mind. It seemed to carve a scar deep in his heart. Even when he wasn't conscious, the dreams never let go of him. The memory of Sarah got more and more vivid with every dream. But still, he rejected taking medication for that. He didn’t want to rely on the medicine.
He pulled out a cigarette, but put it back in the pack.
He set a full cup of coffee on to brew in the kitchen, and looked out the window. It was very early, deserted, and looked as if it was still night. Indeed, one would believe it so if it weren't for the sliver of sunlight just starting to crest over the eastern sky. He opened the window just a crack, and poured himself a cup of black, freshly brewed coffee.
He closed his eyes, lifted the mug to his nose, savoring the aroma of coffee beans, and took a sip. As if on cue, birds began to chirp, and everything began to come alive, awakening to the start of a new day. Even after a poor night's sleep - especially after a poor night's sleep - there was nothing like a good, strong cup of coffee in the morning.
Cynthia was still laying where she was, no doubt still sleeping off the many alcoholic beverages consumed the night before. He didn't have the heart to wake her. But he continued to watch her for a few moments, her chest rising gently with every breath.
At that moment, Alexander felt a great many things, most of which he refused to acknowledge even to himself, but among them was a feeling of gratitude. She had done so much for him, and he scarcely knew how he could repay her for letting him stay with her, and looking after him after such a traumatic experience. He was also thankful.
This was the first time they'd spent any significant time together outside the office for a long, long while. It was so long ago, in fact, that he couldn't actually remember how long it had been.
Cynthia woke to the smell of cooking meat, and the sizzle of a skillet. She looked over, and Alexander was standing in the kitchen making a medley of eggs, bacon, and sausage.
"I thought you might be hungry,"
he said, smiling to her. She smiled back.
"I thought I was supposed to be the one taking care of you,"
she said.
"What are you making?"
she asked him, as he added hash to the mix.
"It's kind of a breakfast mix," said Alexander,
"hash browns, with double the breakfast meat, some eggs, and, after this is done, I'll whip up some pancakes."
"Why all of this? It's almost like it's a special occasion."