Large flakes fall from a colorless chill heaven, a warm glow, the scent of burning wood filled the inner layer of our cabin in the still southern mountains. The scenery was stunning and tranquil, I could almost taste the freshness of the morning crisp air. Through the large glass window, I can view the snow-covered trees all grouped together in silent formation around the vast serene lake. I held her nestle tightly in the folds of my arms, she slept so peacefully untroubled by the notion of the outside world. I smiled caressing my fingers through the curls of her starry night hair, basking in the afterglow of the morning after a night filled with passionate lovemaking.
Morning rays filled the cabin with a natural warming light. The aroma of breakfast filled the atmosphere; fresh farmed eggs, hot thick grits with cheese, pancakes made from scratch, the sizzle and pop of fresh bacon. Being the oldest of two out of three to a single Pops had its perks, one learning how to cook. After the death of our Mom, it was hard growing up in a single parent household, I had to grow up quicker than most. Pops worked long manual labor, so it was up to me to handle the home anyway a young man could. Eggs, my very first dish ever made, of course, it wasn’t the best, but a few cooking shows and grandmas help later it was the very first of many master dishes.
Knock, knock.
Immediately as I was plating the food, a subtle but firm knock came from the front door. Taking a slice of bacon into my mouth I checked my watch and it read 7:48 in the morning. The nearest town is about thirty minutes out, for the hell of me, I couldn’t fathom who could be this far out this early in the morning. My curiosity peaked I cleaned my hands and hastened to the door, once my hand touched the knob a few more knocks sounded off.
