The soft crackles of fire and the boiling water tenderly woke me from my slumber. The owner was now home, he was a man.
I was about to call him and let him know I was awake, but I chose to observe him more. His lean back was to me, faint scars were drawn on his tanned skin. His dark hair spilled over his shoulders, wild and untamed. Shoulders were more muscular than I remembered it, and they moved gracefully across the kitchen table.
His frame was oddly familiar, the more I looked at it. But can't quite point out who it is similar with.
His pants were dirty and tattered, I wondered what he had done earlier that made his clothes look like he was in a battle with cats. He walks barefooted on the wooden floor, chopping meat and other things that would go to what he was cooking.
Feeling the burning in my skin, I looked away to the window, when it was already night. The sparkling leaves were nowhere in sight so I called to him.
