Sandwiches
Changed By YouTearing the pages of her notebook as she could not find the right words, past canceling the words or erasing them or even caring how much paper is wasted by now.
Bite marks on her pencil as she strummed the guitar, a tune was finally almost music to her ears. She encouraged herself as she wrote the chords above the lyrics.
Too preoccupied with what was going on, someone was playing with the keys of her keyboard, humming as well. “Hey,” upon noticing his presence, “Hey,” she called again as he continued to play with keys. "Can't younsee I am busy." firm tone that rarely comes from her when talking to him.
He lifted his hands from the white keys, “I will go bother someone else then.”
“You better be.” She fixed the papers in front of her, and stood up, gently placing the guitar on her sofa bed.
“Where are you going?” After he checked his phone.
“Making myself a sandwich.”
“Really? Make me a sandwich too.”
“Why would I do that?”
“‘Cause you know, women make sandwiches.” An internet reference she understood.
“Puhlease.” She rolled her eyes before turning her back to walk towards the kitchen.
“Please.” He smiled at her, put his hands together, even if she didn’t look back at him.
"Woman, make me a damn sandwich right now." Index finger pointing to the ground, sitting crossed legs on the swivel chair turned around the desk with a piano on it. His voice raised.
She was about to speak, looking at him when Henry stood up from where he was, "Like I said, I will make myself a sandwich," knowing Amber was about to kick his from being stupid, a reason she always uses when referring to him. Amber was about to say something again, and he added, "And I know I am stupid."
"Of course, you are. What's new?"
At the kitchen, Amber was in front of the refrigerator, door opened, checking on what infredient she could use for her sandwich. "Henry, stop staring at my ."
"Ah. How dare you accuse me of such thing? Unbelievable. Even if your looks great, I will not stare at it."
Amber left the door of the refrigerator for Henry, and just looked at him, smirking, as she carried the ingredients to the kitchen counter.
"You took all the things I like." Henry was now checking whatever food left inside the refrigerator. Then turned his head towards her and the food on the counter. He grabbed the stuff he needed and closed the door of the refrigerator. He walked passed the counter and grab the ingredients he needed.
"Hey!" Amber reached for the ingredient Henry was already holding. Henry tried to reach for another one but Amber was quick enough to place it far from him.
"You do not need to steal. You can just ask."
"But you will just say no."
"Well, that is true." She noticed Henry actually never stopped getting the ingredients for her sandwich. "Stop it. Okay, how about a race? First one to make a sandwich. Using the ingredients we both got."
Henry stood beside Amber. Plates in front of them. The ingredients placed neatly on the counter.
Henry kept on moving the ingredients. Moving it away a centimeter or two from where she placed it.
"Stop it! Tsk." Irritated. She swatted his hand from touching the ingredients again. Placing it back to its original place.
He just smiled at her.
After a few minutes, (surprisingly for Amber) Henry won. Amber was just seconds away from winning. His side of the counter was messy as usual.
They looked at each other's plates. At the same time, Henry grabbed her sandwich, while Amber reached for his sandwich. It turned out they made sandwiches for each other.
"Ahem. Ahem." He was touching his throat. Noticing Amber was still only eating her sandwich that he made. "Ahem. Ahem." He did it again.
Amber looked at him. Henry wiped the mayonaise off the side of her lips with his thumb.
"What is with your Ahem, Ahem?"
"Make me a cup of tea."
"Why would I do that?"
"I won."
"You will just boil water, get a cup and saucer, teabag and teaspoon."
"Great, you know what to do." He clapped, "Chop, chop."
"Yes, Sir." Like how a maid will answer to her boss, began getting the things she needed for her boss's cup of tea.
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