Lunch

The smell of grilled honey salmon with onions filled the scent of the dining room. The sizzling oil was all that needed to be said about the salmon. It was to be added with rice, some greens, and fries.

All to treat your weary traveler.

With the cooking done you began to dress the table, with food and tableware.

You called her in for dinner.

To your hungry eyes, she came out of her room dressed lithely, she wore a small declarative thin grey tank top. you were granted an eyeful as her breasts filled in the small piece all too easily. she wore polka-dotted pajama pants. Her hair was styled back into a ponytail.

"Something wrong?" she said sitting cross-legged on the chair.

"Um, nothing how's your mother?"

"Oh, speaking of mother's I need to do something!" she said returning to her room

you sat in your chair picking up a fork and knife all to eat the scrumptious dinner you had cooked. Yet before you could eat your food you felt nothing more than the stale silence in your humble abode.

There was just something you felt you needed to do.