Fluorescents

59

" Is this temporary love I crave?
Will we ever get enough to take?"

He sings, humming along to the light music playing on the radio in the kitchen but holding himself back from making a prominent sound. His hands graze the vegetables and he holds them down, mincing them perfectly as he lifts and lowers his knife smoothly and quickly. My eyes watch his every move and every once in a while I gaze up as he continues to stare down intently. We stay silent for several minutes as he finishes cutting up the vegetables and begins to sauté the onions in the skillet. Part of me wanting to speak but the other part knowing that he's too engrossed in his cooking to bother. After several more minutes of silence he allows the chicken and vegetables to cook at once, his body finally reverting away.

" So what brings you to New York?" He asks, standing on the other side of the peninsula as I sit down on the stool. I bite down on my lip and clear my throat before looking up at him and speaking.

" I'm a stage manager." I inform him, pulling a a piece of hair behind my face. He nods his head and smiles down at me, his perfectly straight teeth glistening. " yeah the band I'm touring with has a concert down in radio city music hall." I inform him, biting down on my lip. He pulls himself away for a second and checks on the food, coming back several seconds later and speaking.

" Yeah I've passed by there on my way to the modern Art museum." He informs me, pulling an apple from the counter and washing it before bringing it to his lips and biting down on it. I nod my head and look away from him as he eats, for some reason embarrassed to look at him. " But I've never been to that venue." He informs me, the sound of him biting his apple loud enough to pull me away from my feet. " Not really a big concert guy." He shrugs, mixing his food and looking down at it, my eyes squinting in thought over the fact that someone wouldn't be interested in concerts.

" I've been to them since I was a child so I guess I didn't really have a choice but to fall in love with them." I laugh lightly, shrugging before looking down at my feet. I wasn't exactly forced to enjoy concerts. Yes I always had the option to not go to my uncle's shows but being around them became such a familiar environment I couldn't find myself doing anything more than absolutely adoring them.

" That's cool." He mutters before pulling himself away and going back to check on the food. My eyes scan him fully and I instantly find myself getting insecure. He seems perfect. His perfectly neat khakis & sweater. His slightly trimmed yet completely even beard. The absence of a lazy eye like mine. I raise myself from the stool as he cooks and walk around his small yet grand studio apartment. My feet lead me towards the window and I gaze out at the extravagant view. I bite down on my lip and graze my hand against the windowsill as I watch people walk along the sidewalks either speaking to someone or walking briskly in a clear rush.

" How do you afford a place like this?" I ask not even bothering to turn around as I hear him make noise from the kitchen. The sound of steps trail behind me but I stay quiet as he comes up by my side and gazes out at the window along with me. He laughs lightly at my question and scratches his beard before clearing his throat.

" Just a lot of shifts I guess." He shrugs, scratching the back of his head before walking off back towards the kitchen. " I think the foods almost done." I hear him shout from the kitchen as I gaze down at a couple arguing. The man grabs her by the shoulders and she slaps him across the face, my own body jumping in its spot out of the clear abuse I'm seeing with my own eyes. I bite down on my lip and the man lets her go, anger building up inside of me from seeing her hit him mercilessly. " You there?" Alex questions, coming up by my side and waving his hand in front of my face. I clear my throat and nod my head, following him shortly after as he leads me back towards the kitchen. A savory aroma fills my senses and my stomach growls as I sit down on the stool and wait for him to slide across my plate. My eyes scan the perfectly plated meal and I swallow hard, taken a back by the perfection with which the meal was prepared.