Short Story

He lay on his bed, the cigarette in his hand glowed the perfect cherry red. He exhaled and the smoke clouded in front of him. The familiar and oh-so-addictive scent only served to relax his body further.

To his left the blonde hair stirred. As she rolled over the sheets slipped and exposed her bare back. He smiled, he wouldn't tell her this yet, but he was starting to know what it'd be like to stay with her.

That was as far as it could go though, relationships were heartbreak when you could never stay together. He took another inhale of the wonderfully toxic tobacco that could never kill him.

The expanse of the bed stretched only a few inches beyond his feet. From there the ground took over, covered with a cheap carpet and underneath was even worse hardwood flooring. The room wasn't much, in fact it was only a foot bigger than the bed in all directions, but it was his. To the right was the closet, it stretched half the wall and only went about a foot back. Needless to say, you couldn't get off the bed on the right side as all of the clothes were invading quality room space. It didn't bother him. Messes never did.

Pressing the light out, he stood up and stretched. Breakfast wouldn't cook itself and she sure as hell wasn't going to cook it for him. The thought of someone else touching his food made him wince, the thought of it being his breakfast nearly made him gag. No, he had to do it himself.

Crossing the floor to the door in about three steps, he opened it and stared at the rest of the apartment. Technically, half of it was his, but his roommate was very, overwhelming, to say the least. Nothing in these rooms belonged to him and it was better that way.

The kitchen was miniscule. Actually, with a slight reflection, the only thing that was actually dynamic enough to take up a lot of space in his life was his ego. And he knew that had gotten him into enough trouble already. These thoughts were too much for the morning, let alone an empty stomach.

He opened the refrigerator door and smiled, this was the one place where he took up the most space. Nothing in the fridge did not belong to him. He had a roommate who only believed in lots of stuff and eating out. A glutton. He would deal with him later though, there was other work to be done.

Pulling out the eggs and cheese his stomach rumbled. He slammed down the food on the counter, frustration overpowering him. What was the point of being - “Chris?”

Damn. She woke up. “Yeah?”

A rustling from the bedroom, “Where’d you run off to?”

He sighed, “Kitchen. I got hungry.” Silence. “You want some food?” Why? He was off to such a good, rude start and then he couldn’t follow through. The door opened and he glanced up. She was wrapped in the sheets and her hair fell around her face like a halo. He’d been around enough halos though and it gave him back some nerve, “You’ll have to cook it yourself though.”

She laughed, “A gentleman. Fair enough, I’d just have to throw it all up if you cooked it anyways.”

Chris started, “What?”

“Someone else touching my food? I think not. I’ll make it myself, what are we having?” She walked over and looked into the fridge.

He thought quickly, “Actually, that’s all my roommates food, you’ll have to be okay with eggs and cheese.” He shoved his hand in the cheese to pick some up and put it in the scrambled egg yolk.

She looked at his hand pointedly and wrinkled her nose, “You’re certainly a charmer. I’m going to get dressed.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.