The Don's Maid [18+]

11

Positivity Corner:

"When your heart breaks, your head starts working"

In the next two weeks I find myself utterly bored and tired.

Lounging in the sun room in a nice looking plush chair, a yoga mat rolled beside the chair, I take a sip from my ice-tea.

All I did through the day, these was yoga and slept and told the guards outside the room to leave me alone and silly things, like climbing up the ladder in the garden to reach the roof.

"Stairs lead to the roof from the house. And it's safe." Don had said once he found out what I was doing.

I huffed like a little child and said I needed candy. He rolled his eyes and said something under his breath, but I didn't care that time. I was too occupied with following the fresh smell of canolli floating from the kitchen.

Now that I think back to it, he must have said I was so immature or something like that, but he brought me here at the first place.

I stretch my arms above my head and legs, before taking a deep breath and leaving the sun room, with the yoga mat under my arm and the tea cup in other hand.

I put the ceramic into the kitchen where I find Sarah, nursing something on a pot.

"Whatchu making?" I ask peering down at the pot. Yellowish something water is boiling. Sarah looks disgusted.

"Pineapple sauce?" She question. "It looks nothing like it."

"You silly worm." I roll my eyes at her and take the pot out from the Stove and finding a sieve I separate the juice and put the pan on the Stove.

"Now you'll get your sauce." I says sweetly.

"Oh." She frowns. "How did I not think about that."

"Because you're dumb?" That's kind of insensitive, if you ask me.

But I am just messing around.

You don't mess around. My inner girl says.

She's weird.

"Or maybe you're just a show off." Sarah says, half mockingly.

"Is this for lunch?" I dip my pointer finger into a bowl of something creamy and take a taste. "What is it?"

"Cream sauce, dumbo." She rolls her eyes.

"Oh." I taste some more. "Do we have chicken today?"

"Yeah, would you marinate them?"

"Sure."

After two hours later, Sarah and I alone in the kitchen finish making pineapple cream chicken, rice, salad for lunch.

"I'll go set the table." She says taking out ceramics and silverware.

"We're eating at the table?" I ask.