To Perceive an Image

Five: Images of Consequential Favors

If this planet follows different seasons, the list of questions I have for Flynn will almost double.

I understand the reasons Maryland would use as answers when asking about similarities. But I wonder what answers Flynn has about this Maryanland lookalike place. I jumped through a projector to get here; did they do the same?

Asking myself questions and coming up with theories by myself won't help. Despite fighting back my curiosity, I don't succeed in holding it in for long. I'll answer Flynn's questions and then bombard him with my own.

From a distance, I see Flynn drying his hands with a kitchen towel and making his way toward the shoe rack placed next to the front door on my right. Damn, I didn't even notice him leaving my side.

Crouching down, he picks up the largest pair of sandals my eyes have ever seen. Turning towards me in his crouched position, he places them in front of my feet after straightening them. Standing up as a low, painful grunt leaves him, he turns to me with a teasing smirk on his lips. "You can put these house sandals on. They're mine, so they're quite large. I figured my mom's or sister's sandals won't fit your tiny feet either. But you can make do with these for now." I don't miss the playful glint in his words.

"Thank you, Mr. giant feet and back pain," I retort back, now smirking myself.

My feet fill about three-fourths of the sandal, a good two or three inches left uncovered. Sigh, the life of someone with small feet.

Ignoring my comeback (rude), he makes his way back to the kitchen attached to the living room. A bar and cabinet type of thing in between them. I don't know whether I should follow him or stay where I am. I'm used to walking into Lyaly and Sapphire's places like I'm raiding it. But they're my friends that I've known for years. They said I have a free rule in their places.

Choosing to stay in my place next to the now-closed front door, I look around the foyer area. Other than a few necessary pieces of furniture, I don't see any pictures. The place looks like those pre-furnished houses some people get. There are no indications of any belongings here. If I didn't know that three people live here, my first conclusion would be that there are no signs of life here.

"Come to the kitchen Azail, why are you standing there?" His voice sounds muffled because of the small distance between us, but I catch his words. Pros of super hearing.

I take slow steps to the kitchen, looking like Jerry when he would try hiding away from Tom.

I'm Jerry, but I don't know who Tom is.

Entering the kitchen, a familiar smell surrounds me. Ah, Iraqi-brand tea, what a treasure you are. Words never do the smell justice. One word describes its taste before putting sugar, bitter. The leaf juice tastes like what it's called, but add a teaspoon of sugar, and you're now in heaven. Distracting myself away from the scent, I look around the kitchen. There is a small dining table in the middle of the rectangular kitchen. I move to sit on one of the four chairs near the window.

A bright kitchen light above the stove aligning the wall illuminates the surrounding area. Flynn stands in front of the kettle, waiting for it to boil. Although I have a view of his back, it doesn't take a genius to figure out this man's built figure. Good for him.

I got the occasional blessing to see his side profile. That is when I notice how pretty he is. His sharp cheekbones and defined eyes make him look terrifying, I will be honest. For someone his age, I can tell he has been through so much that makes him look the way he does. I can detect people my age from a mile away, and I know this man hasn't seen the age of 21 yet. Not that he looks bad, not at all. A little older than his age, I'll say. Poor guy. I have grey hairs and musculoskeletal pain at my ripe age too, don't worry. He's still as gorgeous as they come.