17 November 2012
The morning sun danced on the small ice puddles that had formed on the road, creating a sparkly atmosphere with the thin layer of frost. Wispy clouds lay just above the blue hills, lined with a yellow reflection of the sun rise. The blue sky empty, apart from the single bird that flew from one tree to another. The trees were naked with a light frost on their branches. Emily's breath could be seen, it was that cold. Her nose and cheeks had gone red from the cold. She tucked her hands under her arms, trying to warm them up. A wisp of her black hair had fallen out of her beret hat and was sitting over her eye. She blew it out the way and pulled her coat tighter. She didn't have far left to go, hopefully her husband would be awake so she can cuddle him back into warmth. Emily smiled at the thought. She took out her iPod from her pocket and unraveled the earphones. Removing a glove, she scrolled through to her favourite song - 'Gone In The Morning' by Newton Faulkner. Her pace had picked up so she was bounding home in time to the beat. She hummed to the song mouthing every word, but not singing incase someone heard her. Emily turned into the small path that lead to her driveway. She snipped off one of her roses that were growing on the sides of the driveway. The rose was a red one, with frozen raindrops and frost covering it making it sparkle in the sunlight. She picked off the thorns as she walked, not pricking her finger once. Emily approached her cottage, opening the small wooden door. The warmth of the fire place had heated the whole house. She shrugged off her coat hanging it up on the back of the door. She walked through to the kitchen, looking for a vase. An empty, thin glass was sitting in the middle of the table. It had a slight green tinge to it and was a bit dusty. Emily placed her rose in it, pulling the leaves over the rim of the glass. She put her gloves and scarf beside it, on the table. She stood back and smiled; Emily always had a fascination with roses.
Two arms, snaked round Emily's waist. She took in a ragged breath of slight shock as a pair of lips kissed her neck.
"Good morning beautiful," a husky voice whispered in her ear. Emily smiled.
"Where is my hot chocolate and freshly made pancakes?"
Her husband spun her round so she was facing him. He looked into her eyes and tucked her stray hair behind her ear.
"Your hot chocolate is there," he nodded at the coffee table, "and I was just about to start the pancakes just as you walked in.."
She smiled, her eyes lingering at his lips, then back up to his green eyes. He leaned down kissing her lips tenderly, barely touching them.
"Go and drink your cocoa while I make the pancakes Em," he patted her bum with a mischievous grin on his face, causing Emily to giggle at his typical boy mind.
She sat down, holding the mug in her hands, warming them up. Alex had made her cocoa perfectly: A layer of mini marshmallows, a mountain of squirty cream, chocolate grated over the top, with a flake to dip in... Perfection...
The smell of pancakes was making its way through the room. This was bliss. Never in a million years would she of thought to get such a perfect husband. He cooked for her, cared for her, loved her and most of all, made the perfect hot chocolate.
And to be perfectly honest, she was happy, living in her dream world, with her dream guy, dream house, dream life.
And that's when Emily woke up. A tear rolled down her cheek. She wasn't sure why at first, but then she realised. She was sad. Sad that her dream wasn't real, her husband wasn't real, her house wasn't real, her life wasn't real... And her perfect hot chocolate... Was never made.
Perfect Hot Chocolate • Opuss № I