“Steaks on Paper Plates”

He stood at the sink, passing a sponge back and forth across a chinette paper plate; gripping it hard at the edges so as to wash it’s backside when it ripped. “Dammit, not again,” shaking his head and pressing two fingers against cabinet door by his left leg; a smooth and quiet glide presented the recepticle.

A smoke alarm cries out just before he can touch and close the cabinet; turning to the gift, a Viking, that Jennifer bought him for Valentine’s day, three years earlier. He didn’t use it much anymore, but had come across a marinade he wanted to try on his ribeye: well, two of them, though he’d only eat one. “Too high,” he thought, but the charring was pretty perfect, he’d decided.

He smiled a half of a smile, walking away from the kitchen without paying attention to the still open cabinet, stopping to dance slow with himself to Prince, “Somewhere Here On Earth.”