Caged in Darkness by J. D. Stroube

morning air refreshed me, but I couldn’t tarry
long. I could see a storm coming in and did not want to be caught
on the terrace in a downpour.
    The terrace connected to Ash’s room, and I
looked over to see his window open. He must have been out earlier.
We met here most mornings. We rarely spoke, but instead sat in warm
silence. It was my favorite part of the day. He never pressured me
to talk and understood that I needed those moments.
    I followed my weekend morning routine;
showered, brushed my teeth, threw my hair into a messy bun, and
replaced my robe with a pair of jeans and a billowy t-shirt. Before
leaving my room, I opened the dirty clothes hamper and pulled my
money and student ID from the jeans I wore the day before.
    I walked into the kitchen to be confronted
by the obnoxious odor of burnt cinnamon rolls, cooling on the stove
top. Ash bent over them and poked each with a fork, as if testing
to see if it would move.
    I cleared my throat and he angled his head
away from the rolls to greet me with a slight smile.
    “I think I killed them.” He nodded towards
the charred remains of his attempt at breakfast.
    “I think that’s a safe assumption. I vote
don’t risk it.”
    Ash folded the rolls into a paper towel and
threw it into the trash with a thud. I sat on the counter and
grabbed the glass of milk abandoned there.
    Ash arched his right eyebrow, “Feeling lazy
this morning? I guess that means, I am setting out everything for
breakfast?” He sighed, and flashed a sarcastic smile. “Since you’re
drinking my glass of milk, I suppose I have to make do with a can
of orange juice, since that was our last clean glass?”
    “Mmmm… good milk.” I smacked my lips. “You
could always do the dishes and have a glass of milk too.” He walked
over to where I sat, and placed his hands on either side of my
waist.
    “Or I could take back what is rightfully
mine and you could do the dishes.” He made a grab for the milk and
I artfully pulled my hand holding the glass as far away from him as
I could.
    “Fine. You get the darn milk.” His arms were
back in their original position and he stared directly into my
eyes, while I brought the milk back to my lips to take another
sip.
    Guilt rushed over me. I smiled and
hesitantly offered the glass to his lips. He took a sip. His mouth
quirked into a half smile.
    “You’re too easy. Keep the milk; I poured it
for you anyways.”
    Laughing, I swatted at his back with the
kitchen towel that lay on the counter. He began combing the
cabinets for assorted boxes of cereal, bowls and sugar. I watched
as he placed them on the table in the connecting family dining
room, and added fruit, nuts, and bread to the mix.
    “Hope you’re okay with dry cereal?” He
didn’t glance up to see my nod.
    Pushing myself off the counter, and moving
around it I ran directly into Ash on his way back into the kitchen.
Our feet tangled and before I knew it, I was plunging towards the
antique tile. Ash grasped my waist with one hand and my hip with
the other. He held me in a position that mimicked the type of dip
couples generally did at the end of a dance.
    “Klutz.” He kissed the tip of my nose, and
pulled me back to stand before him, but I was dizzy from the
movement and fell against him.
    Ash’s eyes widened, as my body molded to
his. I quickly sucked in my breath. My face angled upwards and his
lowered. Our noses grazed one another’s in an Eskimo kiss. We stood
still, his breath gently brushing my lips, and I noticed that he
had specks of brown in his green eyes.
    He straightened suddenly, and pulled my body
away from his. My confusion greeted his detached stance, and
noticing he moved closer. His hand, which had been holding my upper
arm, slid upwards to pull the part of my t-shirt that covered my
shoulder, to the side. He then leaned forward and placed a small
kiss on the exposed skin between my shoulder and neck.
    His breath grazed my earlobe, “As I said,
klutz.” He laughed