𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗩𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲 (𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝙱𝚡𝙱)

Track 55 | 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗧𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗠𝗲

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Smothered in blankets, I woke up the next morning to the sound of rustling. The dim light of daybreak hardly poked through the closed blinds of Rian's apartment; you couldn't tell it was morning if it weren't for the digital clock on the TV cabinet reading '7 AM' in stark red.

I slowly picked my head up from the pillow, discovering Ari's faint silhouette in the kitchen, hopping into his jeans. His belt buckle jingled quietly as he fastened it, a soft but strangely pleasant noise to wake up to.

"Ari?" I croaked in a barely active voice, sitting up from the couch. "Where are you going?"

"Do you wanna get breakfast?" He whispered back, grabbing his hearing aid from the kitchen counter and placing it in his ear.

"Right now?" I rubbed my eyes, clearing my hazy vision. "Where?"

"Anywhere."

"...Can you give me a second to wake up?"

"Yeah. But hurry up, I want pancakes."

➤ ➤ ➤

Thankfully, the weather had been fairly warm recently. We were more than halfway through spring at this point in May and summer was finally starting to rear its head. Ari and I stepped out of Rian's apartment that morning expecting an icy chill, but instead we were met with a cool, refreshing breeze. And with the approaching summer came the fear of graduation and everything beyond that. I decided not to let the stress get to me in that moment. It was a nice morning, and I wanted to share it with Ari. We rarely had nice moments anymore.

Despite our collected hatred for it, we couldn't deny that Cloverland was a beautiful town; and it would always take the chance to show off its beauty in the early mornings. The sun hadn't poked its head over the horizon just yet, allowing for the streets of Cloverland to be washed in a supple, mellow shade; the blue sky traced with wispy, watercolor clouds glowing the brightest above us.

Washington street was the emptiest and safest at this time of day—even the latest hours fostered its own unsavory individuals—making the brisk stroll with Ari serene and intimate. No one was around, except for maybe a passing car or a community service worker sweeping the sidewalk. We tread in silence, neither one of us speaking on behalf of last night's events. I wasn't even sure if Ari was thinking about it at all. Did he forget? I didn't know how to approach him about it.

Most of the stores were closed or in the process of opening up shop, except for the local diner that's been a part of this town for as long as I could remember. Washington was always the busiest street in town, but there are some blocks that feel more forgotten than others—this store belonging to one. It's one of those diners that are open 24/7.

We got a booth by the window in the otherwise vacant restaurant. It looked as though we were the only two customers there, apart from one older man in the back. The diner was so ancient (and so well-preserved) that there were still 50¢ Crosley jukeboxes implemented at every table.

The sun was just starting to creep over the horizon once our breakfast had arrived.

"Thank you," Ari said politely to the waitress as she set down a plate of pancakes in front of him with a pitcher of syrup on the side. For me, a cup of coffee, eggs and toast.

After drizzling a healthy dose of syrup, Ari put his fork and knife to work, slicing into his pancakes as I sipped my coffee. With the warm beverage held near my lips, heating my fingers, I sat there cozily and observed Ari through the wafting steam. He carefully divvied up the pancake stack into small, freshly-cut triangles and forked them into his maw. He sat and chewed for a while, staring at his plate with his chin resting on his fist.