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You leave the bedroom with purpose. You're going to cook something.
Your kitchen- like everything of yours- is meticulously cleaned and organized. Within minutes you're making batter for pancakes, boiling water, and buttering a pan for eggs. You don't consider yourself a master chef, not by any stretch. But you find simplistic joy in cooking, you always have. Anna taught you how when you were younger before she left for the Air Force. You had no mother to show you of course, and Karina would never want to get her hands dirty, but like you, Anna liked to cook.
You like to be productive, to <span class="mu-i">do</span> something, <span class="mu-i">make</span> something, but you never considered yourself creative or skilled enough to be an artist or a musician or anything like that. But cooking, you can do.
You chop kielbasa as the pan for eggs heats up and the pancake batter sits. You like to let it sit a bit before pouring it, you find that it produces fluffier pancakes.
The stillness that comes over you when you cook isn't unlike what you feel when you get lost in an intense or captivating video game, or what you feel when you go hunting. But creating something brings satisfaction that killing something can't.
As you prepare the food, your stomach wakes up enough to growl hungrily. You put a kettle on for tea.
A vibration in your pocket startles you. You take out your phone and flip it open. The messages that come in make you smile.
Cooking is good. But cooking for other people is even better.
