Touring His Home

Xander

After a false start home yesterday due to some stupid storm, I was finally home. The pilot had called me bright and early in the morning. He informed we had a small window to take off. I packed my shit and made it to the small airport by five. In California time, that was two. My body was screwed up. I hoped to go back to sleep but it was impossible.

I cracked a few eggs into a pan before popping some bread into the toaster. I wasn’t a chef. I didn’t cook a lot, but I could cook a few things. My eyes felt gritty from the lack of sleep. I made another cup of coffee, thankful it took less than a minute to be ready to drink and sipped it while my breakfast cooked.

I sat down at the kitchen bar with my iPad propped up on a holder. I took a bite of the eggs while scanning through the headlines for the day. The world was going to hell in a handbasket, as my father would say. It was depressing to read the news.

My phone rang, interrupting my quiet morning. It was still early for a Sat