i drove over to nick's yesterday evening listening to belle and sebastian as the clouds hung low in the horizon. a short trip to the grocery store with a basket filling up quickly. and back to his place where i rest my chin upon the lower palm of my hand, elbow on the bar while seated on a wooden stool. he's cooking for me. and while the music fills our ears, the smells of chicken and pesto and parmesan fill the kitchen. he's moving the knife expertly with swift cuts and stirring risotto in a pan with a spatula and complaining about the lack of a garlic crusher. and in the end, i have a black plate with parmesan chicken filled with basil pesto, risotto and steamed broccoli.
we stayed up watching lock, stock and two smoking barrels. kiss just a little bit longer. and then we fall asleep in seperate beds.