3My voice echoed through the tall, russet-colored walls of the kitchen room after a frustrated groan and a slight yell of my voice. Normally, the air would be filled with noise other than my own grumbles, which, to some, would be a blow to the mind if they were ever to find out.
The house, breathing on its own with its washed-warm colors of auburns and burgundys slinking up the walls and rising itself over every corner wound give the appearance of life. Or, at least, the existence of two people existing thoroughly by simple methods: one cooks while the other tries to stay back away and cleans. But the home was always alive. Alive with life and sound that competed two lives.
It was never the television set or any computer that would make the setting be filled with clamor, though. Typically it was the sound of music that took silence's bitter place. It was really strength of harmony that would warm the air and burn energy.
A rapid drumbeat. A heavy jazz solo. A rock legend's theme song. The radio was always playing in the kitchen; always giving off more fervor to enjoy. It was that simple machine box alone that slowly became the heart of the place itself. The balmy love of all that took home to this shelter. But this life was silenced temporarily; the radio's power cut off mutely like a deep cut to the throat and a collapse of stillness that brought itself to its knees.
Even outside, when the atmosphere was always giving off an uncoordinated symphony of clanks, clunks, and all sorts of clatter, which made the surroundings more welcoming and friendly was silenced just like the radio. A powerful wave that echoed death for everyone and everything surrounding this area and it was quite apparent that the power was cut off. But even without power, anything should have been giving off a roll of laughter or a spread along cry of birds off distance. Or at least a moment when there was something loud and boisterous, and oh, anything was better than this!
"It's not really that bad," remarked Elsie Gilmore slowly in a clear-as-a- bell voice: she never even bothered to tilt her head and stare up at me as she sat outside in a lawn chair on the deck. Of course, there was a sketchbook wallowing in her lap and all eyes were focused on just one sheet. A pencil was in her hand as if she was dictating, and it was quite clear my good friend's attention was only on her fine art. I almost let a bitter laugh at the thought while I listened to her through the screen door. She never left her spot while I marched through to examine.
"Obviously you've never experienced black-outs like I have!" called out my voice loudly while throwing it over my shoulder. Trying to evoke some sort of powerless threat, I slowly gazed around the house to make sure my hypothesis was true. My voice sounded more forthcoming that I originally thought it would in the back of my mind and I scrambled to try to think of something else that would get my point across, but my mind fell short again and I was left with silence just like the radio.
Elsie just gave me that crack of a smile of hers and continued to scratch at the paper slowly, keeping her eyes on her work. In ways she reminded me of memories when my father would laugh and explain to me that my mother and I were a lot alike. That I would only laugh at him if he pestered or teased me. It was true, and I could see this in Elsie just as I saw it in myself. In ways, we were a lot of alike. Maybe that was apart of the reason why I held around her for so long than most people.
"At least the phone will work!"
Hearing this, I only smiled faintly and called out just as boldly, "At least!"
Nodding, Elsie smiled softly and watched what she has created over on paper. It was funny how calm she sat there. Even more so, how funny that she was always much more calm than I in any situation. While I would fester over daily events ready to attack with extreme enthusiasm, she would just sit back and observe with no blame on her record. Even if we're a lot of alike in my eyes, she was my difference.
Her heavy, copper-colored eyes, covered with glasses over her face, were shallowly grazing over her sketchbook, trying to fix every detail on paper. Elsie's long chestnut hair pressed gently across her cheeks faintly from the warm wind hitting gently over our yard.
It was seeing her hunched over and working along that almost made me disregard what was happening around us and putting my attention back to her where it belonged when the electricity was on. Where it belonged in the first place.
Elsie, to put it bluntly, was amazingly gorgeous. Whatever she wore, she was always stunning in my eyes. Today her ensemble of clothing was just a cherry-colored t-shirt with faded-out, worn jeans, and of course, no shoes or socks. But more so, it made her seem so youthful and sweet. For that, I loved her, as I knew she loved me.
As for I, with my shoulder-length, golden hair, light blue eyes, and pale skin, couldn't compare to her. I always scolded her for wearing jeans in the summer, but I was not at all innocent. I was always caught wearing long sleeved shirts in the summer time as well. I was wearing one than; a pallid, thin one that buttoned up simply with flimsy, jean shorts. I finally completed my outfit with bare feet; neither of us enjoyed wearing shoes in the hot, summer days.
'Mattie?"
My head quickly turned to see Elsie stepping into the kitchen and leaving behind her 'workstation' outside. I wasn't paying attention, obviously, seeing that I didn't notice her sneaking in. I did notice and studied how she lightly slammed the screen door shut, placed her sketchbook away on the tiled-counter and gently trailed her eyes to me.
What I didn't notice was myself staring directly at her.
Before she could say anything else, my heart once again ruled my mind, and I approached Elsie leisurely. Running a hand up to her chest, I placed it over her skin warmly with an awed, neutral glance on my face. She froze and steadily I leaned up to kiss her deeply over her mouth while shutting my own eyes. My lover responded back by running her fingertips up my back and onto my spine blindly. I felt her kissing me fully and moaning weakly when I stroked her chest with my fingertips delicately.
Enough was enough.
Quickly I broke away, looking into her eyes with a surprised, widened eyes and grinned lightly. Hastily, I ran my fingertips to her hand and pulled her slowly into our living room, ready to pursue up the stairs in a swift dash.
Elsie let a laugh escape her lips and replied almost in a playful voice close to my ear, "What about the power?"
"Mm, the power can wait," I replied slowly in a murmur while turning my head to kiss her mildly on her lower lip and tugged her quietly up the stairs.