Thirteen Heart

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Thirteen Heart

         It's often the little things that win someone's heart. Mom always used to tell me 'everything coming straight from the heart is far valuable more than any gift money can buy,' how come? I would ask her. Her green eyes would light up with this strange warmth, she would smile to herself, her slim back bent over the pot of boiling beans and then what after some quiet seconds, she'd reply. 'Alice, a lifeless object can't give us happiness. Happiness is inside us. A piece entitled from one to heart to another always strikes happiness because it hits right on our heart," I'd shake my head, confused. 'I don't understand,'

            The sound of her laughter filled my mind. 'One day you will, my silly clown,'

I bit down on the side of my lips, my hair pulled back into a tight braid as I stood dressed perfectly into a neat pair of plaid trousers and  a red tee.

My eyes shifted to the timber wall-clock. Five o'clock it read while the black second needle swept away.

"Straight from the heart." I whispered to the narrow kitchen drawers.

The cabinets creaked nosily when I opened them. The white paint chipped off into my hands, sticking to my clean and nicely scrubbed hands. 

            I spotted a large container filled oats and a box of raisins. Right then I knew what I was going to make for Devlin.  The minute I checked on Devlin last night ( or early morning whatever you want to call it), I knew I had to do something for him. It's not fair that he's the one who gets to play the nice guy all the time.

            Now it's my turn to be one to him.

I smiled and set right to work. Even though I may or may not be a good cook but for his sake I had to try. With each passing second, it was getting harder and harder to control the massive burst of happiness erupting inside me. I couldn't wait to surprise him.

~*~*~*

After exactly one hour and eighteen minutes I had the accomplished the impossible feat of baking a batch of fresh oatmeal and raisin cookies. Not to mention, the kitchen was absolutely perfect- all the dishes were clean and the granite counters were spotless.

Liza would be so proud. She probably wouldn't believe me if I told her that I, Alice Brown had baked cookies without tearing down the kitchen.

Carefully, I balanced a warm cup of milk in my left hand while the other gripped tightly to the plastic tray filled with cookies. My cheeks were beginning to hurt from the wide grin on face but I couldn't care less.

I walked to Devlin's room and was greeted by a closed pale blue door. Should I knock?  Yah, Alice how are you going to manage to do that. Both of your hands are filled with food. Maybe I should try using my foot.

No, I won't do that.  What if Devlin opens the door and finds standing looking a freaking one legged rabbit. Never mind.

            "Devlin," I quietly spoke up.

No reply.

"Devlin," I tried a bit louder.

            "Oof" A grunt resounded through the other side of the door.  Sounds like someone fell off the bed. Maybe I startled him. Yikes.

            "The door's open," Devlin replied, his voice tried and gruff.

"Um," I shuffled my feet, staring at my SpongeBob socks- the ones Sandy had gotten me for my birthday. "My hands are kinda occupied,"

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