Breakfast for Three

I learned to leave the lid on the pan. It never would get properly hot otherwise.

With some ideas you're never sure where they started. You could blame almost ten years of "being one of the guys" blurring the lines between friends and boyfriends, or whormones and opportunities, or what have you, but causes don't make stories in themselves, so I guess it doesn't matter.

Old eggs seem to have a membrane to them just under the shell, but these ones are fresh and crack cleanly.

It's weird when you're already a touch past "just friends" with a guy, and then fall for another one. It's weirder when they have a thing for each other too. I'm halfway unsure exactly what happened next even to explain it to myself, let alone to polite company.

I'm a bit too short for the counter, so it's hard to resist dicing onions without straining my wrist.

People are use to the concept of monogamy, and of cheating, and of single people sleeping around, but the concept of having multiple meaningful relationships at once is quite alien.

Saute the garlic, then the onions, then bell peppers...

I open the cupboard and stare at the plates. My housemates haven't figured out what is going on yet, and there are so many people constantly floating in and out that they are unlikely to unless I make it really obvious. Three plates seems risky, so I grab one large serving one put three forks in my pocket. Carefully balancing the plate I tiptoe down the hallway, back to my room.

"Hey guys," I whisper, "I made you breakfast."