My Muse

I played with the hem of the shirt that I barrowed and sat down at the kitchen table. His kitchen was nothing like his bedroom. The chair and table I sat at was covered in stickers, the walls, that seemed to be once yellow, were covered in posters, spray paint, and pictures, and the hard wood floors were covered in scrapes and scruffs from the many shuffling feet that had tregged through there.

“Here.” I snapped out of my daze and looked up at him. He handed me a bowl of Trix cereal as he sat down across the table from me. As soon as I grabbed the spoon, I started shoveling it in my mouth, not caring if the milk dripped down my chin or if it spattered all over the table.

For some reason, I get real hungery after my morning hangovers.

I dropped the spoon into the empty bowl and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. My stomach pains faded as the cold milk and crunchy fruitiness settled in my tummy. Full.

I opened my eye and looked across the table. His chin was rested on the palms of his hands, eyes and mouth open wide in shock.

“What?” I asked, wipping my face on my sleeve. I could feel the blush creep up onto my cheeks as he leaned forward and looked at me harder.

“I have ever seen anyone eat like that before, you looked like a wild animal.” He said, his eyes still wide and his lips hinting an amazed smile.

“So I have heard.” I said rolling my eye and smiling. He laughed and leaned back in his chair. His voice reminded me of some ones.

“Are you that singer from the band at that bar last night?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

“Yep.”

“What’s your name?” I asked leaning in with my elbows on the table.

“Gage, you?” Gage asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

“Meredith.”