10.21.98
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She actually liked mornings, if they were done right. (You! In the third row! Stop that snickering...)
This morning was a perfect morning. The lights were low enough to keep her from squinting too much, she had clean clothes, and Jack had spent the night.
To be more accurate, Jack hadn't spent the night with -her-, which didn't really bother her, much. He also hadn't borrowed her down comforter, which -did- disappoint her. Stretching, she got up and struggled out of her jammies, pulling on the day's clothes thinking that it was odd to get up with a semi-strange male in the house. Not -unpleasant-, but... She thought she could rather get used to the sensation.
Padding out to the kitchen, she rounded up her lunch and plodded into the living room, plunking down onto the couch with a small sigh. Pretty quick, Jack ambled out of the spare room and into the kitchen, rummaging around for breakfast.
The freezer... He'd opened the freezer? She suddenly remembered that she needed to take a clean glass in to work with her, and it -did- give her a perfect excuse to see Jack one more time...
A lanky young man; hair the color of straw, of late-afternoon sunlight, of spun gold (really, it was all three mixed together); cut in a short near-buzz; wearing a dark blue-green shirt under a pair of blue denim overalls... Jack was leaning against the counter on one hip, her carton of Butter Pecan ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. He made a delicious picture, wickedly tempting in his decadence.
She sublimated both her desire to sigh and to drag him back to bed (ice cream and all) with a Herculean effort, smiled at him, and retrieved her cup.
They were both silent, the soft thrumming of the 'fridge and their footsteps the only sound, until he saw the clock. "Welp, I gotta go... See you later."
"Yeah, see you..."
And then he was gone and she had to get to work.