A Tall and Small Collection | Soren

Kitchen Conversations and Catastrophes

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were faking being injured." Ashlynn's snarky yet playful comment wafted with the smells of dinner through the air to Soren, who had just successfully climbed down from his box on the ledge onto the counter.

He smirked at her as he took up his walking stick and hobbled to a more advantageous place to watch Ashlynn wield a very sharp knife. It had been nine days since their conversation about coming to the kitchen for company.

The agreement was simple. Soren agreed to come to the kitchen in the box as long as Ashlynn adhered to their initial rules Soren laid. Ashlynn, wanting to keep Soren off of the immediate counter so he wouldn't accidentally get hurt, laid the ground rule that he was supposed to stay on the far counter near the bread box.

They both agreed, leaving them to their current circumstance of Soren climbing down from the breadbox to the counter and Ashlynn watching while making dinner. Soren, now mere inches from his entrance to the walls, stared yearningly at it. Ashlynn was right about one thing – he was a lot better than he was a few weeks ago – but still not good enough to survive on his own.

It killed him being so close and yet so far from freedom and independence – and yet, at the same time, it didn't. During this compiled time of two weeks, Soren had to admit that residing with Ashlynn wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to him.

"Right, you caught me," Soren muttered as he leaned against the wall, placing the majority of his weight onto this uninjured leg. He folded his arms against his chest, not realizing that his tone and body language were clear indicators to his human counterpart. Ashlynn, only beginning to get a glimpse into Soren's already subtle expressions, stopped cutting to look at him.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked. Soren closed his eyes and rubbed his knuckle into the corners. Feeling her eyes on him, he loosely wrapped his arms around his torso a little tighter as he nodded.

"Yes," he replied after a moment. "Just... thinking." Ashlynn's eyes glided over from him to the electrical socket near the bread box. She remembered the second time she found him, passed out on the counter near the box with the cover slightly ajar. A knowing look glazed her eyes for a moment. In an effort to relieve the tension, she set the knife down onto the cutting board, took a step back, and leaned across the opposite counter near the sink.

"You know... you can leave if you want," she said softly. It caught Soren off guard and his eyes flicked up to see Ashlynn looking at him earnestly. "I know it's part of the rules and everything, and I don't know what's going on in your head, but I thought I'd say it again. It's been a while since either of us mentioned it."

Soren wasn't sure where this came from until he snapped out of his stupor and glanced at his body position. He unfolded his arms from his torso and glanced away, now slightly embarrassed. He hoped she couldn't tell that his cheeks were burning a light shade of pink. Soren's mom always said that he always turned a light shade of pink when he was embarrassed.

"Yeah, I know. I... Sorry, I was just thinking." Soren reached up and scratched his scalp, ruffling his hair which was beginning to grow to an unruly length. [I'll have to cut my hair at some point] he thought passively as he subconsciously tugged at the ends of his hair. He couldn't help but think of the way his mom would tug at the ends of his hair when he needed a trim. The thought made him smile.

"Thinking? About what? How long your hair is?" teased Ashlynn as she approached the cutting board and resumed her work. Soren half laughed, half snorted and turned his attention to her.

"Is that your question for the day?" he asked rhetorically.

"Better not be! It's a sorry excuse of a question," returned Ashlynn. "But seriously, whatcha thinking about? You get this look on your face and for the life of me, I can't tell what you're thinking."