As I pour the broth into the pot, I watch it simmer and the aroma fills the air. It's the smell of sauteed vegetables and onion all around me. I want to envelope myself in this smell. It's so beautifully aromatic. Too bad it won't last.
I carefully peer into pot and stir occasionally. My apartment reeks of gourmet cooking and I'm sure the people who used to refuse to join me for dinner are now clamoring outside my apartment door, with bowls, asking me to pour my heart-and-soul soup into them. I watch the clock and let it simmer for another hour.
I set the table as if the Queen herself were joining me. Might as well make a last date with myself. I hug my arms to my chest and let the smell of the soup be the scent of my lover. I open my eyes and glance at the table. I remember that that's what I should be doing.
My best tablecloth is spread over the table. Pity, I think. Blood-red roses stand in a vase in the center. I take out my most fancy porcelain and lay it out carefully.
I place the other dishes into small bowls on the table. Steamed asparagus with leg of lamb. And for dessert, of course, Black Forest Cherry Cake. Black as night, with cherries as red as blood. As a child, that seemed a revelation to me. It seemed to much like a scene from Snow White- where her ruby red lips touch the cake and she falls, lying there until someone kisses her and she is aroused. Now it is simply my favorite cake.
My timer goes off as I am staring at the cake. I pour the soup into a bowl and bring it to the table. I dressed myself as best as I could; today was certainly an event. I put some blood-red lipstick on to contrast with my pale-as-snow complexion.
I sat down at the table and waited. And waited. And no one came. So I began to eat all by myself. My ruby-red lips touched everything, and I drained the soup into my body, filling myself with the smell I had so longed for before.
When it came time for cake, the blackness overwhelmed me. I took the powder and sprinkled it all over the cake. My ruby-red lips touched the black-as night-sprinkled-with-white cake. And I collapsed.
And I waited for someone to kiss me.
© Copyright 2016 SigridVonBonn. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Historical Fiction
Short Story / Thrillers
Short Story / Romance
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