I never met a wall that didn't look better with words on it. ;)
I'm going to cook today. Hot weather food. Cold pasta, tortellini tossed with olive oil and fresh thyme, halved cherry tomatoes and mushrooms, just softened in the pan with a trace of butter. Slices of firm basil tofu, crusted with black pepper and fried until the surface is crisp. A watermelon salad, you know the one, with the feta and the red onions.
In a few moments, when I'm done with my coffee, I'm going to put on pants and walk to the store in the bright July sun because I need more onions and a baguette fresh from the bakery. There's already ice cream in the freezer and beer chilling in the fridge. I'll open the black lager when I start cooking. God I fucking hate cooking.
Sometimes I watch horror movies when I'm home alone. I save them up on the DVR. So many monsters in that slim silver box. Then, one night the mood strikes. I draw the blinds and I open it in the dark like Pandora.
I know, before I begin, that I will sleep with the lights on. That I will walk past the closet door on the far side of the hall, that I will hop into bed and pull my feet up quick. Just in case. Even though the only monster in here is me.
Aloha and welcome to Fictionaut. Also: First post! Yeah!