I woke up the next morning eager to see Owen. I ate quickly and darted out the door. In my absent mindedness I had to fly back to tell Shae 'thank you' and 'I'll see you later'. Shae was delighted I came back just for that reason. As I approached Owen's bedroom window, I noticed it was already open. And when I walked inside, I saw he was still asleep.
Odd, I thought and floated over to the small table nearest the window beside his bed. I sat there too excited to leave, but too nervous to wake him up. I crisscrossed my legs as I waited for him to wake up; so many questions running through my head. After 10 minutes of driving myself crazy, he finally started to stir. He rolled a few times and stretched, and turned in my direction with groggy eyes.
"Ri"? His was voice coarse and deep. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at me, "Were you watching me sleep"?
"When you say it that way, it sounds creepy", I retorted trying to hold in my questions.
"Because it is", he said with a yawn, but didn't seem to care.
"I didn't want to wake you", I said standing up as he sat up, his bare back facing me.
He peered over his shoulder with a sleepy grin, "Well, thank you for letting me sleep".
He stood up and left the room, and I waited about 5 minutes for his return. He walked back into the room and pulled on pants and a shirt. He glanced over at me as he buttoned his blue pants, "Uh...Is there something on your mind"?
I smiled wide with a clap of my hands, "YES! How many hours do you normally sleep? Do you dream? If you do dream, do you have nightmares too? How did you warp the wood to make that drawer thing that holds your clothes"? I asked quickly, and then pointed at the large drawer thing.
"Uh" he grunted with a laugh and walked out of his room.
Did I upset him? Confuse him maybe?
"Come on, Ri", he called after me with a sigh. A smile brightened my face as I courageously flew out of his room and followed him down the stairs. As I flew into his kitchen, or lack thereof, I saw him walking over to a table pushed against the wall on the other side of the kitchen counter ... Or lack thereof. He poured water from a large canteen into a black contraption, and opened a can of black powder.
"What's that", I asked, bravely landing on the table only 15 inches away from his person.
"Coffee", he said scooping the powder into a different compartment of the contraption.
"Like the bean"?
"Yes", he stated happily, flipping a switch and then walking away.
"So, you ground the bean", I deduced, "and then..."
"And then mix it with hot water", he said pulling a Cup from the doored shelves, "and then separate the bean from the liquid".
I jumped looking at the machine when it puffed. "And that's called coffee".
"Right", he walked back up to me and set his Cup down in front of the contraption.
"And this thing does that for you"? I waved my hand at the contraption and then craned my neck to look up at him.
"Yep", He nodded, staring at it starting to drip. I could feel the heat from it, and the aroma was... inviting?
"Does it taste good"?
"It grows on you", he shrugged.
I glanced up to him. "But you drink it for energy I assume".
"Yep, we call it caffeine".
YOU ARE READING
Avalon Isn't What It Used To Be
FantasyMy mother says my endless curiosity and my need to venture is a curse. Though, I know she only says that because I'm just like my father; who went out to curb his appetite for new experiences and never came home. Do I feel abandoned? No. How could...
