Snowflakes

I woke to the blinding light that spilled through the windows, my eyes fluttering lightly as they tried to adjust. I sat up, throwing the quilt off of me as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stretched my arms, causing a yawn to roll up from my throat. My head lolled around, loosening the tense muscles in my neck. My joints gently popped as I stood to my feet.

I peered around the room as I could now see it in the light. The walls were an off-white color and the curtains resembled a long soft yellow fountain that flowed all the way to the floor. The bed sheets were the same soft shade of yellow, but the cotton blanket countered it nicely with a green and yellow paisley design. It added that pop of color to the room that really caught your eye. The armchair that held my duffle bag was a nearly perfect match of the color of the bed sheets and curtains.

It hadn’t changed a bit since I was a child. I smiled at the memories of how my cousins and I would pile up into the two small beds. We somehow fit two of us on both of the beds and no one had to sleep on the floor. That was a success for us.

That was before Evan was old enough to stay in a room with the big kids; he always preferred to sleep with Mum anyways.

I made my way over to the window, pulling the curtains open to let the light of day fill the tiny room. I smiled, walking back to the bed where I had spent the night. I pulled the covers tight, tucking the sheets under the mattress, and fixed the pillows so that it looked like I hadn’t touched it at all.

I turned to the door, stepping out and jogging down the stairs. I heard the sizzle of bacon in a pan and smelled fresh coffee brewing. I froze in the arch that lead to the kitchen. Gramma Abbey stood at the stove, a fresh pot of coffee resting on the counter beside her and a greasy spatula in her left hand.

I must’ve gotten my left-handedness from her.

"Want some bacon, dear?" She chirped happily, scooping the meat off the pan and onto a platter.

I smiled graciously, yawning as I picked up a piece of still slightly sizzling bacon. “Thanks,” I grinned, bringing the food to my mouth.

My senses immediately awoke as I chewed at the delicious nutrients. I hummed lowly in my appreciation of the intense flavor. No one cooked a breakfast quite like Gramma Abbey.

"What are your plans for the day?" She piped with a satisfied smile across her lips.

"I don’t know," I shrugged, hopping up onto the counter. "I wanted to go into town or maybe just take a walk? Ya know, to breathe in the Holmes Chapel air."

"Ooh, I think a walk to town sounds like a great idea!" She sounded completely delighted by the idea. She looked at me through bright blue eyes. "I can’t join you, of course, but I do recommend getting a treat from the bakery in town if you do go."

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?” I mused. “Is it that good?”

She nodded and smiled playfully up at me. “The cute boy behind the counter is quite the little baker.”

That comment definitely caught my attention.

"How old might this cute boy be?" I giggled, picking up another piece of bacon and bringing it up to my lips.

"I suppose he could be about your age. Seventeen?” She pretended to be uncertain of how old I was, although she never missed a birthday of mine. She always sent a small gift and a card that clearly stated how old I was at the time.

"Sixteen," I corrected jokingly, throwing up my index finger.

"Oh yes. That’s right!" She chuckled heartily. "He is indeed sixteen."

"Single?" I wiggled my brows at her suggestively.

She didn’t respond verbally, nodding silently instead. She turned to make herself a breakfast tea and raised a mug at me, asking if I would like a cup. I shook my head, politely declining the offer.

"Well," I began, pushing myself from the counter. "I might just have to pay him a visit. I’ll just get a shower and make myself a good, steamy cuppa coffee, then I’ll be on my way."

I was grinning from ear to ear. If there’s one thing that lifted my spirits any day of the year, it’s flirting with a cute boy. Gramma Abbey is very intune with my preferences of the male variety. I trusted her completely when it came to boys.

"Off you go," she waved her hands toward the stairs.

I bounded down the hall and up the stairs. I threw my duffle bag open and rummaged through it. I pulled out a few items and threw them over my shoulder before rushing across the hall to the bathroom. I folded the clothes and placed them haphazardly onto the counter.

I quickly turned on the shower and adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature. I stripped down and climbed into the steamy water. I soaped up my hair and rinsed it out. I massaged conditioner into my light brown locks while I subconsciously formed an image of what to expect the boy to look like, which was a terribly shallow thing to do. I knew that, but I just couldn’t help myself.

My thoughts were broken by a sharp stinging in my right eye; the conditioner had run in my eye. I rinsed my hair and eye quickly before I stepped out of the shower, towel-drying my body and wrapping my soaking hair into the now damp towel.

I slipped into my clothing choice for the day before unraveling my hair into medium long strands that dripped as I walked back to the bedroom to get my hair dryer, which I had foolishly forgotten.

I picked up my phone off the vanity to see that none of my very few friends had called or text me to see where I had up and disappeared to. They were probably off doing something with their families and didn’t have any time left over for Kenna. We can't all have my mother.

I forced the device into my boot with a quiet scoff (for whom I wasn’t entirely certain). I grabbed my blow dryer out of my bag and strutted back to the bathroom. I blew my hair completely dry, running a comb through the slightly tangled strands before sliding the black beanie onto my head.

I sighed at myself and pulled a silly face in the mirror to get myself pumped. It was a strange habit that I never found inconvenient enough to do away with.

I spritzed a bit of my favorite perfume on, swiped my bubblegum pink, elf Glossy Gloss over my lips, and threw on a Rudolph necklace. I may not feel that festive, but that doesn't mean I can't look the part. I finally grabbed my headphones and a pair of gloves before starting down the stairs.

Gramma Abbey was found sitting by the large sun room enjoying her favorite book, Pride and Prejudice.

"I’m off," I grinned slipping the headset around my neck.

"Break a leg!" She waved as I turned and set out the door.

It wasn’t as cold as it was last night. I started to walk down the long, gravel driveway and out along the small paved road. I stopped briefly to pull my phone from my boot, flicking through my songs list. I came upon my Leisure Listening playlist and turned on an old favorite, “Hate (I Really Don’t Like You)” by Plain White T’s.

I put my headphones up over my ears and my feet bounded down the street with the beat of the music. I would occasionally belt out a lyric from the song before quickly looking around to make sure no one heard my horrible voice. I sometimes forgot that when I was wearing headphones, others weren’t necessarily doing the same.

A few more songs had passed before I realized my nose had begun to run, causing me to sniffle. I tried to warm up my poor, probably red, nose by breathing hot air into my sweater sleeves and covering my cheeks and nose. I didn’t have to do this for long. I could see the bakery Gramma Abbey recommended: W. Mandeville’s Traditional Craft Bakers.

I stepped up onto the curb and slowly opened the door to the little shop, pulling my headphones from my ears to rest around my neck. A tall, curly-headed brunette was resting his hip against the counter, his back turned to me. He was busy staring off into space as I stepped up to the counter and reached over to lightly tap his shoulder.

He turned around to me with a polite smile. He wasn’t what I expected. He was definitely cute. His long curls were out of control, but he had the deepest dimples I had ever seen. Even with the slightest crack of a smile, his dimples were still quite deep.

"Uh… would you like a tissue?" He tried hard to hide the smirk as he gestured to his nose.

"Oh, yes please," I covered my face with my hand, smiling shyly behind it.

He walked off to the side and plucked a kleenex from a hidden tissue box somewhere behind the counter, handing it to me. He still held the same polite smile. “Here ya go.”

"Uh thanks," I laughed, taking the tissue and wiping my nose. "You’re a life saver."

He shrugged, smiling brightly and leaning his hands on the countertop.

"My hero! How could I ever repay you?” I uttered dramatically, placing a hand on his forearm.

He grinned and gestured for me to lean closer, which I did. His lips were closer to my ear than I had expected, but his voice came out slow and soft.

"Wanna do something sometime? Maybe tomorrow?" He whispered, looking around for, I assumed, his boss.

I smiled coyly, pretending to weigh my options. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. Do you have a pen?”

He shot me a cute smile and walked back over to the spot he found the tissues, retrieving a black ink pen. I took his hand and slipped the pen from between his fingers. I scrawled my phone number softly over his skin, writing “Makenna ♥” underneath the series of numbers.

"Makenna," he mumbled, staring at the letters on his forearm.

I handed him back the pen and turned on my heel to exit the little shop. I had accomplished my goal, so there was no real reason to stay. It’s not like I went to the bakery for actual baked goods.

"Wait," he called, sounding slightly amused. "Is that it? You don’t want a muffin or anything?"

"Nope," I shrugged. My face was completely serious. "I did what I came to do."

I reached to push the door open when he quickly stopped me again.

"We’re not busy," he began. "Stay and chat?"

"I don’t think so," I shook my head, giggling quietly. "Lots to do, you see."

"I’m Harry," he called in what I assumed was another attempt to get me to stay.

"That’s nice," I smiled as I stepped back out into the cold, slipping my headphones back over my ears. My eardrums flooded with the sound of "Chocolate" by The 1975 as I strutted back toward Gramma’s house.