Page 41 of Petite Fleur

I'm not really surprised; I think they go out at least a couple of days a week, but they'll be going a little harder for the next few weeks since there aren't any classes.

I mean, they should be studying, but whatever makes them happy.

However, food, my garden, and reading make me happy.

Which is why it's a little depressing that all I have in the fridge is a couple of random vegetables on their last leg, a bag of rice, and a few spare potatoes.

Ooh, I have gluten-free pretzels, but that's not really a meal.

I don't think I'm pretzel hungry; I think I'm seven-course meal hungry right now.

Too bad my wallet and pantry aren't suitable for a seven-course meal.

I really need to go to the store, but my paycheck doesn't come in for another few days.

Crap.

It's fine; I can make this work!

I've perfected making something out of nothing, or maybe I've just perfected eating just enough to survive.

I settled on making some fried rice; it's really the only thing I can make that I have all the ingredients for.

I even had a bit of tamari left in the cabinet, and I found a few packets of Sriracha from when Carlie and Sean went to some new Asian restaurant across town.

I hope they won't mind.

I mean, they steal all my pretzels, so can't we just be even?

I don't know, I hope so.

As soon as I sit down with my steaming bowl of fried rice and grumbling stomach, I hear Carlie and Sean outside.

It sounds like they're fighting for their lives with the lock, giggling loudly, shushing each other, and falling over.

I even hear one of my pots fall off the steps and shatter.

Awesome.

But, I decided to take pity on them after laughing at their expense for a moment.

"My hero!" Sean yells excitedly as he barrels through the door and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug that takes my breath away.

He smells heavily of sweat, stale beer, cheap liquor, cigarettes, and hay?

Okay, maybe not hay, but I can't place what the smell is that has seemed to melt into their clothes.

They smell like a barn.

“Yeah, yeah, I saved the day; too bad my cape is at the dry cleaners, and I forgot my glasses in my other coat pocket.” I mumble, laughing when Carlie lets out a dramatic fake laugh and flops down at the kitchen table, yelling, “Food!” as if she hasn't eaten in weeks.

Maybe I don't want to ever experience the party life if it involves coming home stinking like a pig barn and being so famished that you dig into your roommate's fried rice with your bare hands.

“You two stink, by the way.” I complain when Sean finally peels himself off me and joins Carlie at my dinner.

I don't have the heart or the time to ask them not to, that they're eating the last meal I can afford for a few days, but that's okay.

I'm sure I can figure something out.

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