I head into the kitchen, the house eerily silent.
Living with Calla has been… enlightening.
I’m just putting the last dish in the dishwasher when she comes upstairs, dressed and ready for the day. She’s wearing a pair of dress pants and a light pink blouse that I can see through. I think it’s made that way but fuck me if the outline of her bra under that shirt doesn’t send my mind to places it shouldn’t go.
I’m never sleeping again.
“Good morning,” she says with a big smile. “Oh, shoot balls, did I leave dishes in the sink again?”
I look down at the now-empty sink and then back at her with a smile. I’m guessing this is one of the many things on her list she’s been doing to get under my skin.
“You did, but lucky for you, I actually enjoy doing the dishes. It’s like a calming way for my brain to fix something without having to put much work into it. Leaves me more room to be creative with my writing.”
Her smile drops. “You like doing the dishes?”
“I do.”
I open the cabinet for my cereal, but it’s not there. I close that cabinet and go for another.
“Everything okay?” Calla asks.
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. She wouldn’t move my food around, would she? That would be… an odd thing to do. “I just thought I had some cereal in here, but I guess I’m out. Need anything from the store?”
“No, thank you. And you weren’t out. I was rearranging the cabinets and noticed how much sugar was in those boxes and tossed them.”
I stare at her. She’s smiling like she did me a favor, but I have a routine, and that cereal is part of my routine.
Don’t freak out. It’s just food. Just take an energy drink and head to your office. She’s doing this on purpose. Don’t play into it.
“Thank you,” I manage to say while mentally reminding myself to hide the goods when I get back from the store later.
“Of course.”
I jerk the fridge open and pause again.
“Oh yes, do you know how high the chances of heart problems are from drinking energy drinks? Huge. I tossed those too. I’ll see you after work. Have a good day,” she says with a cheery voice and walks out the front door.
I don’t have a chance to dwell on it before my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer without looking at the name on the screen.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you,” Doug says. I can hear his music in the background and a horn honking.
“Are you talking in the car again? You know you’re a shit driver when you talk and drive.”
I head down to my office without food and without a drink.
Oddly enough, this has inspired me to write.
“I just pulled over.”
Another horn honks, and he groans.
“Fine. Fine. I’m pulling over now.”
I laugh and lean back in my seat. Honestly, with the lack of ideas I’ve sent him recently, I expected this call a lot sooner.
“What’s up, Doug?”
