'A prompt a day keeps insanity away' is a series of (excerpts from) short stories, written by me, inspired by one incredibly thoughtful act of a stranger during this uncertain time. I may not interpret the prompt the way it was meant to be, so get ready for a huge mess and enjoy reading.
prompt three: no one in this world compares to you. you're the one.
She woke up to the sound of pots and pans clanging, followed by complete silence coming from the kitchen, clearly intentional. 'Oh, he's awake', she thought. Her lover, John, wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed and probably more; his mind ecstatic with the thought of a lazy morning, a simple form of luxury for someone who juggled three jobs to make ends meet in this capitalist society.
She finally dragged herself out of the bed, slowly making her way to the kitchen where the man was busy flipping pancakes. John was very good at making pancakes; always so fluffy, always so perfectly done. 'It was all about the eggs,' he told her the first morning she woke up in his bed. Countless mornings later, though, she still couldn't get it right.
There in the kitchen stood the said man in his 6'2 glory. She hated his tacky 'I❤NY' tee with all her might, but luckily John had this gift of pulling off even the ugliest piece of clothing. His golden locks were tied messily at the top of his head, which was probably one of her most favorite things about him. She had always had a soft spot for man buns, anyway—but nobody pulled a man bun better than Spencer.
Spencer should've been her past, but he was also her first everything, which might explain why she still seemed to be deeply infatuated with his memories years after they separated. Just like John, he was blessed with beauty and an even more beautiful state of mind. So, it wasn't that much of a surprise that he just naturally became the benchmark for all her relationships coming next.
John came to the picture not long after Spencer happened. It took her a good two years before she could replace Spencer's imagery with his existence. She had to convince herself, repeatedly, that John was not some kind of a placebo to fill Spencer's absence during those long, long days without emotional gravity.
'Let me guess. Blueberry?' She didn't miss the way John slightly jumped in surprise, lips shut tight trying to hold back his giggle. Yes, John giggled like a school girl when he's amused and she swore to God she would never let him live it down.
'Close enough.' He carefully placed those jiggly, puffy pancakes on separate plates, throwing the empty pan to the sink. Yes, he wanted to do this in their very own California king bed, but they both knew the breakfast would've worked just fine without the 'bed' part, anyway. 'It's raspberry. With some lemon 'cause I'm feeling adventurous.'
'Ooh...' she raised what was supposed to be her left eyebrow playfully. She totally regretted shaving her eyebrows to get that clean-cut Instagram look. She took salvation in John's reassurance that she looked fine either way, with or without them. 'Is that supposed to be suggestive or am I putting too much on it?'
'Both.' John managed to steal a kiss or two on her temple, his hands too busy adding some freshly-cut berries and some powdered sugar on top for the final touch. 'This was supposed to be a surprise, you know?'
Spencer was better with surprises, sort of. He once randomly knocked on her door at 4 in the morning, drove her out of town to an empty beach on a breezy summer day with a picnic set ready on the back seat. It was nobody's birthday. He just felt like she could use a good break after a particularly long, torturous day during her internship.
Spencer was probably too good with surprises, though. He left her with a huge surprise the day he decided to break their picture-perfect college romance. She was young and naive, getting mad at the world once she realized that all this time, she was looking at him through a filter. Of all surprises Spencer ever gave her, she hated the last one the most.
'So... should I go back and pretend this—' she paused as she took a bite from her plate, '—never happened?'
'Nope, you stay here—' he stole a huge bite from her plate, which only got him a playful smack on his sculpted arm in return, and took another bite from his own plate, '—and we're gonna save the 'bed' part for later, how about that?'
Yup. John was indeed the better one.
—end
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