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12:15 pm

I watched him moved around the kitchen. For someone his size, he moved with the ease of a dancer. His shirt clung to him like a second skin. Hearing a beeping, he pulled his phone from his pocket to check the text message he had received. “What size clothes do you wear?”

“Why? I don’t plan on staying here long enough to need new clothes.” I grabbed the knife from him and started dicing the onions he was working on before the text.

“If you want to wear my baggy clothes, I don’t mind, but I thought you would like something more your size and comfortable.” There was a smile in his voice, and I could hear the hidden laughter. I guess I did look like I was wearing a circus tent.

“Medium top, 34 b bra, medium underwear, and size 8 or medium pants.” I continued to dice the onions. They were starting to make my eyes water. I don’t understand how a plant can reduce me to a mess of tears. Tearing up, I walked to the sink and turned on the water. I felt a warm, strong chest come up behind me. Le
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