A U T U M N
I went out of the bathroom once I cleaned up. I felt so guilty for throwing up in his kitchen just a few minutes after I arrived. I moved to the kitchen, wanting to clean up my mess, but the floor was spotless. It was almost as if the last five minutes has never happened.
"Phraser?" I called out his name.
He walked out of the bedroom. He had changed his clothes earlier with a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of white shorts. "Yeah?"
"Where is my barf?" I pointed out the spot where my barf was supposed to be.
He slid his gaze from the floor back to me. "I cleaned it up."
I stared at him in disbelief. "You clean?"
"Yeah." He shrugged as if it was no big deal then added, "I do it all the time." I still had trouble believing what I just heard.
"I don't know you do your own cleaning."
