Ethan in the Kitchen, Monday
The sounds of his pacing, footfalls waiting for the electric kettle to click off, barely audible from up the stairs. Steam rising—earl grey for him, spearmint for me, just a pinch of sugar. He brings breakfast to bed. I make lunch while he’s gone, find eggshells of meals past placed back in the carton. Later, he sits in the corner strumming chords while the water comes to a boil. The noodles soften, he rises to stir. We have pasta, al dente. After, his hands move slow, gentle in the sink, scrubbing until his skin smells electric blue, soft and clean.
Kaitlyn Crow (she/they) is a queer writer based in Charlottesville, Virginia. Their work has appeared in Door Is A Jar, COUNTERCLOCK, and Screen Door Review among others. You can find them on Instagram @kaitlynwriteswords.