Y is for “The Yolk”

The first light of the morning crept through the window, and I lightly traced the lines of the muscles on your back in it.

I’d been laying here listening to you breathe for a long time now and I worried about what I might be feeling. I’d wrestled with myself and decided that, for you, I would take the first step. I had been enjoying our time together, and I wanted to show you that.

I climbed from the bed quietly, and I crept downstairs. I decided I would make you breakfast. It took a bit of searching, but I found everything I needed. There is coffee, bread, bacon, and eggs.  Making the coffee was easy, but I had to guess how strong you like it. The toast went into the oven because I realized too late you do in fact have a toaster. I hoped you liked your bacon on the crispy side.

The eggs were the tricky part; they were always the tricky part. There were so many options: boiled, scrambled, sunny side up, poached, over easy? I think over easy. He seemed like the kind of guy who preferred the yolk runny but the whites fully cooked. Soft on the inside, harder on the outside. At least, I hoped he was.

Over easy was tricky, though. You always had to be watching him. If you turned away for one minute, the egg became over cooked. If you rushed things, the whites would be too runny. If you weren’t careful when you flipped it, the yolk would break and what you ended up with would not be what you intended. Lucky for you, I was very good at over easy.

I searched the cabinets for plates and mugs. I searched the drawers for silverware. I got everything ready, and I heard you creeping down the stairs, just in time. I took my place at the table and waiting for you to see everything I had done for you. I waited for you to see how perfect the eggs were. How perfect I was.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment.”

Oh no, you looked angry.

“I made us breakfast. I hope you like crispy bacon; I got a little distracted and the cooked longer than I meant for them too. The eggs came out perfect, though, try them.” If you would only sit down and try the eggs you would understand, I loved you, and I could be the right girl for you.

“No, I won’t try them. I want you to leave Alice or else I am calling the cops.”

“James, listen, just sit and try the eggs. Try the eggs and we can talk about this. I just want to make you happy, if you could just see that we could have a wonderful breakfast together.”

He stood there, staring at me, rage in your eyes. I realized you were not going to sit down and enjoy this breakfast, or any breakfast. You were not an over easy kind of guy after all. Oh well, maybe the next guy would be.

I grabbed the knife from the table and wondered how I was going to eat all this food by myself.


Author’s note: The plan for this challenge was to post small pieces of fiction that read more like excerpts rather than stories with a true beginning, middle, and end. I think instead, these have turned into something in between, some more, some less. Please bear with me, these are my first attempts at writing fiction. You can find them all under my AtoZ2016 tag.

Featured image by tednmiki (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons


3 Replies to “Y is for “The Yolk””

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