Syrena
Enchanted.
Juliet shrugged. “At least it’s better than Campbell’s canned crap.”
She switched the heat off. Her gas stove sputtered nosily. The bright orange flames licking the bottom of the pot flickered and died. Juliet absently gave the soup a final stir. Warm liquid slopped against the sides of her pot. She frowned, sat down across from Aaron, and reached for a silver spoon.
“I made it last week.” She gently poked at the soup in her bowl with the spoon. “And saved the leftovers for an emergency.” Juliet dropped the spoon and let it clatter against the china bowl. She picked at the hot cheese sandwiches. “I suppose this counts. Eating anything else in the refrigerator would have been disastrous.”
She took a bite out of one of the sandwiches. Cheese oozed around her fingers, and the sharp taste of cheddar made her stomach rumble. She licked her lips, savoring the crunchy breadcrumbs and melted cheese. Juliet finished her sandwich in silence. But Aaron radiated with tension. She waited patiently for the tension to break.
Aaron sat silently, eating, for several long seconds. Then, he burst into conversation. Juliet listened attentively and carefully filed the information away for later reference. But she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Aaron revealed a series of burn scars. The shared information was starting to become personal; something more than the readily available data kept in files.
Juliet pursed her lips. “I don’t like authority figures for obvious reasons.” She started to stir her soup again. Though, this time she tasted some of the liquid. Her soup tasted passable; the time in the freezer, though, had seeped away some of the flavor. “And I like to keep a low profile.”
She sighed. Then, finally offered: “I took dance lessons—mostly ballet—as a child. I still do, now, too.”
She switched the heat off. Her gas stove sputtered nosily. The bright orange flames licking the bottom of the pot flickered and died. Juliet absently gave the soup a final stir. Warm liquid slopped against the sides of her pot. She frowned, sat down across from Aaron, and reached for a silver spoon.
“I made it last week.” She gently poked at the soup in her bowl with the spoon. “And saved the leftovers for an emergency.” Juliet dropped the spoon and let it clatter against the china bowl. She picked at the hot cheese sandwiches. “I suppose this counts. Eating anything else in the refrigerator would have been disastrous.”
She took a bite out of one of the sandwiches. Cheese oozed around her fingers, and the sharp taste of cheddar made her stomach rumble. She licked her lips, savoring the crunchy breadcrumbs and melted cheese. Juliet finished her sandwich in silence. But Aaron radiated with tension. She waited patiently for the tension to break.
Aaron sat silently, eating, for several long seconds. Then, he burst into conversation. Juliet listened attentively and carefully filed the information away for later reference. But she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Aaron revealed a series of burn scars. The shared information was starting to become personal; something more than the readily available data kept in files.
Juliet pursed her lips. “I don’t like authority figures for obvious reasons.” She started to stir her soup again. Though, this time she tasted some of the liquid. Her soup tasted passable; the time in the freezer, though, had seeped away some of the flavor. “And I like to keep a low profile.”
She sighed. Then, finally offered: “I took dance lessons—mostly ballet—as a child. I still do, now, too.”
