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Description
LIMPO

Malloon let me stay the night. I finally came to the conclusion that no...no adults would be coming through the door any time soon once it was 3 in the morning. I don't know why I stayed up so late; nerves or paranoia, maybe. It was more confusing, though, that I got up at 7:30, before Malloon. I guess I usually got up around this time, give or take an hour.
As with every morning before this, the first problem was food.
I looked through every single cabinet in the kitchen. Milk. Flour. Sugar. Chocolate syrup. No real substance; just a bunch of ingredients. I wondered if Malloon was a good cook, considering he had to do it every morning for himself. Maybe I should cook breakfast, I thought. After all, he gave me food and a bed for a night.
What can you make with flour, sugar, milk, and chocolate syrup.
Pancakes.
Waves of throbbing memories strangled my mind, but I fought it off with the scent of chocolate in my nostrils. The aromatic scent only enforced the memories. I tore open the freezer and stuck my head in it.
"Gah!" I shrieked. The crushing freeze woke my senses up, though I'd rather have a coffee than hypothermia.
What was I doing? Right. Pancakes.

"Mm...what's that smell?" I heard from behind me.
"Chocolate pancakes. Have a bite." I flopped a pancake onto a plate and handed it to Malloon.
We sat on the couch of many stains and smells. We finished the pancakes in two bites each. Fresh food really is so much better than cold garbage. I whimpered when the melted chocolate touched my tongue.
"You cooked that?" Malloon asked incredulously. I nodded. "You couldn't have. That was too good to have been cooked by a - how old are you?"
"Eight."
"I'm nine! I should be a better cook than you!"
He started shaking his head again. Really, it wasn't that big a deal. I've watched pancakes being made almost every morning. You learn a thing or two after a couple years. And, to my surprise, making pancakes was kind of fun.
The evidence that I could cook made me the chef of our humble apartment. Yeah, I stayed. It wasn't like I had anywhere else to go, and Malloon didn't seem like a serial killer. It was much easier to cook meals every day and try to find a job I could do to help out. Eventually, I found a job as an online Spanish-English document translator. Thank goodness my dad wanted me to learn Spanish grammar as well as English. I still had to take an advanced syntax and grammar course in both languages, but in the end, I was able to provide for myself.
Six months later, I was completely settled in with a job, a bed, etc. So, of course, another complication would greet me when I opened the door to see a bedraggled girl at the bottom of the stairs to our door.

Description
LIMPO

Malloon let me stay the night. I finally came to the conclusion that no...no adults would be coming through the door any time soon once it was 3 in the morning. I don't know why I stayed up so late; nerves or paranoia, maybe. It was more confusing, though, that I got up at 7:30, before Malloon. I guess I usually got up around this time, give or take an hour.
As with every morning before this, the first problem was food.
I looked through every single cabinet in the kitchen. Milk. Flour. Sugar. Chocolate syrup. No real substance; just a bunch of ingredients. I wondered if Malloon was a good cook, considering he had to do it every morning for himself. Maybe I should cook breakfast, I thought. After all, he gave me food and a bed for a night.
What can you make with flour, sugar, milk, and chocolate syrup.
Pancakes.
Waves of throbbing memories strangled my mind, but I fought it off with the scent of chocolate in my nostrils. The aromatic scent only enforced the memories. I tore open the freezer and stuck my head in it.
"Gah!" I shrieked. The crushing freeze woke my senses up, though I'd rather have a coffee than hypothermia.
What was I doing? Right. Pancakes.

"Mm...what's that smell?" I heard from behind me.
"Chocolate pancakes. Have a bite." I flopped a pancake onto a plate and handed it to Malloon.
We sat on the couch of many stains and smells. We finished the pancakes in two bites each. Fresh food really is so much better than cold garbage. I whimpered when the melted chocolate touched my tongue.
"You cooked that?" Malloon asked incredulously. I nodded. "You couldn't have. That was too good to have been cooked by a - how old are you?"
"Eight."
"I'm nine! I should be a better cook than you!"
He started shaking his head again. Really, it wasn't that big a deal. I've watched pancakes being made almost every morning. You learn a thing or two after a couple years. And, to my surprise, making pancakes was kind of fun.
The evidence that I could cook made me the chef of our humble apartment. Yeah, I stayed. It wasn't like I had anywhere else to go, and Malloon didn't seem like a serial killer. It was much easier to cook meals every day and try to find a job I could do to help out. Eventually, I found a job as an online Spanish-English document translator. Thank goodness my dad wanted me to learn Spanish grammar as well as English. I still had to take an advanced syntax and grammar course in both languages, but in the end, I was able to provide for myself.
Six months later, I was completely settled in with a job, a bed, etc. So, of course, another complication would greet me when I opened the door to see a bedraggled girl at the bottom of the stairs to our door.