Admirable and Delectable

Alex and Angel star in their debut short. Short, and sweet. February 14, 2017.

Angel stared outside the window. The hyperloop flew out of Los Angeles City and veered close to the Pacific Ocean. As if they were on an albatross flying south. 

“Is there a meaning to you? I know what today meant, but do you feel anything?”

“It’s… um… interesting? You’re a practical guy, well, you wouldn’t find anything for it.”

“It’s all your call, really.”

“Dinner… home?” He was the only person in which she could share her true thoughts with. “Get the frozen meatballs. Max wants them, apparently.”

It’s a dear shame she can’t articulate herself well. She never could.

Alex cleared the payment on his film while she wasn’t looking. As soon as they get home it will be hurled through a small delivery chute down to the living room. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong - we are not participating in the conventional fest—“

“I’m not sure. With you yesterday is as good as today.”

And only her could elicit a true smile from him. He chuckled slightly and shook his head. It’s genuine, and she’s used to the small gestures of appreciation. Intimidating advances is just not her. Yet what came with him is much less a well-designed system designed to catch her. It’s more of a honest mistake that she somehow liked.

And admired.

The train pulled home. And on their hind wheels on the soles of their feet they sailed through blocks. A drone lifted off from a few streets away back into the air. It quickly scanned up for any passing Airlifts before it flew away from them.

Max isn’t home right now. The film spelled it out for them both.

“Oh. Well that can pass us by.” Alex kissed her then hoisted her up as the door unlocked for them to let them inside.

—

“I would have said that. Diplomacy is what stopped me.”

“Well, they didn’t kill me over it. That’s a plus, I guess?”

The meat went inside the compressor as the machine cycles the liquids extracted from it while heating the patty.

Angel handed the strainer to him. He shook it twice, and pushed the button to drain. The water steamed as it retreated into the vacuum that hurls into a treatment device somewhere down there.

“I wonder what they are doing—“

“On their own vices? Well, I mean neither—“ He dumped everything in the strainer into a white melamine container, and casually tossed the tongs on top of the done pasta.

“What do you think then?” Angel was always nervous. Trust me, you’ll see.

“They’re often like that. You’re familiar with them.” Sauce, and then the ground meat. Then a few mixes with the whisk. Second container, same procedure. The tongs have been swapped for an oversized scoop.

“They have plans?”

“Precisely. I’m accounting for the ‘I plan to sleep in’ ones.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Let’s forget about them. It’s all about you now.”

“And you, syrup.”

He remembered why today was of significant importance again, and took her away.

Somehow through the night they forgot about the half-eaten pasta that have remained heated by the steel plates.

The lovely wind sailed by her hair, and his skin.

Eventually they creeped back into the bed they shared many weeks on. Alex made sure the bed and the cooled pasta was at least slightly warm. But she didn’t mind. Spaghetti and sheets only turn cold when he’s absent. She ate the leftover strands, watched her boyfriend as his eyes lit up with his favorite show, and got pampered down while he took a shower she asked to be a part of.

The two plates stacked on top of one another by the nightlight. Alex wanted them to be washed earlier, but Angel wanted him.

Then again, she always felt a sadness that she had to fall asleep again. As if the life she was living is the dream.

She touched and grabbed onto his arm he spent so much time working on, and it pinched her cheek playfully in return. She pulled it over him like the oversized teddy bear Max used to have protecting him from the monsters.

And drifted off again.