Cooking Partners - InkSpot.Com

About This Author

I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

Cooking Partners

Victoria tossed the scallops, soy sauce, garlic cloves, and pineapple juice into the little spin mixer. Her job helping with the big meal was complete. She happily headed out of the kitchen to her favorite recliner, grabbed the remote, and settled in to continue binge-watching her new favorite show.

Pulling up the episode, she smiled, looking forward to this next part, knowing that something big was coming. The build-up to this point had been everywhere, on TV and especially on social media, and she'd done her damnedest not to read the spoilers.

"Vic?" Michael called from the kitchen.

"Yeah."

"What were you thinking?"

Victoria groaned, got up, and returned to the kitchen. Michael stood next to his little mixer with a scowl.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You just put everything in here, and the blade is here," he said, holding the blade that was supposed to be at the bottom of the mixer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it wasn't in there," she said.

Michael shook his head. "Well, get something; we have to dump everything out."

Victoria opened the cupboard, grabbed a bowl, and watched as he fixed the situation.

Back in the living room, she sat in the chair for her second attempt. She hit play and the opening music started.

"Vic," Michael called again.

She closed her eyes briefly, paused, and returned to the kitchen.

"I need the lids for the pans."

She opened the storage and pulled out two lids to cover the trays. "Anything else?" she asked, knowing that the second she sat down again, he'd call her name.

"Nope, think we're good."

She waited a full minute in the living room before starting the show. The second she did, he called her name again.

Sometimes, it was better to make dinner herself.

WC: 300
Written for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"

by Arakun the twisted raccoon

7/14

InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.