Prompt: Longganisa
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The alarm woke her up from her deep dreamless sleep.
She stretched and stilled when she felt the empty spot beside her....again. It's the 3rd time this week (among other weeks), that the space beside her was unoccupied.
Taking a deep breath, she stood up to make the bed, and proceeded to automatically do her morning rituals; trying not to think too much.
Yawning, she went down to the kitchen, opened the fridge to look for breakfast.
She spied the lone pack of longganisa sitting amidst the layers of neglected ice trays and a dehydrated pack of frozen chicken that she remembered buying last year.
Sighing to herself, she pulled out and stared at the icy plastic-wrapped meat. He loved longganisa. He always asked her to cook it for him, especially during Sundays.
Her eyes were drawn to the breakfast nook where they used to have those quiet Sunday breakfasts. Where she would wake up with warmth emanating from the body beside her.
But that was then.
She looked down again at the pack in her hands with the cold seeping through her clammy skin. She thought of defrosting the pack, taking out the pan, heating the oil and frying the sweet processed meat. She could imagine the sweet meaty taste. It's been awhile since she had longganisa. Maybe she should have it for breakfast.
Or not.
Sighing to herself, she placed the pack inside the freezer.
Sometimes, it's just not worth the effort.
