Chapter 3: A Meal

Against all odds, Zophie managed to return to my apartment without incident. She hadn’t spent a dime more than she needed at the grocery store, either.

The moment she walked into the house, she put the four grocery bags, two in each hand, down on the floor. Scrambling through her pockets, she produced a handful of coins. “Here’s the remainder,” she explained, trying to get me to take it.

I waved her hand away, mildly annoyed that she’d bother with a couple of pennies. “Just keep it. I don’t care.”

“Oh. Thanks! You really are a kind guy, aren’t you Asmo?”

For a moment, my shattered heart moved again. It went still a moment later.

“You okay, Asmo?” the girl leaned into my space, examining me.

I brushed her away. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just unexpected is all.” That hadn’t happened in centuries. Was she really just some ordinary mortal?

I must have stared at her a bit too long since she started squirming in nervousness. “Uh, should I get started in the kitchen, then?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” I barreled through the tiny girl, gently forcing her away from the grocery bags. Picking them up, I started walking them to the kitchen. With how tiny she was, she was liable to drop all of it and make a mess all over my apartment.

“You don’t have to carry all that!” she immediately demurred, halfway bending over to grab the bags.

“I insist. You might drop them.”

She straightened up, walking alongside me with a grin. With a quick poke to my chest, she said, “You truly are a kind guy, aren’t you?” I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or just being annoying.

I let out a huff in return. She had no idea what I was, and here she was waltzing around my house as if she wasn’t in any danger at all. Foolish mortal.

“You go sit down,” she pointed at the kitchen counter stools, “while I make us breakfast. It’ll just be a minute!”

‘Us’, huh? Guess this all made sense now; she really just needed some food for herself. Well, not that I cared much.

As I scooted out a stool to sit down on, the girl started rummaging through my cupboards. She eventually found my cookware, but she scowled down at the stainless steel appliances.

“There’s so much dust in here! You know, it’s not good to eat nothing but take-out. I’d guess you haven’t cooked for yourself in months!” she scolded me while she brought the pans to the sink. “Take-out might taste good, and it’s easy, but it really drains the bank quickly.”

I sincerely did not want to be scolded about my spending habits by the girl who gave so much of her money away that she couldn’t afford food for half the week.

Besides, it’s not like I needed mortal food anyhow.

The girl began cracking eggs and mixing with a whisk. “So, what do you do for a living?” she attempted to chat.

“I’m rich.”

“Oh. But you don’t work at all?” she prodded.

“Not really.”

“Then what do you do for fun?”

“Nothing.” Brood, maybe.

She pouted, puffing up her cheeks with air. “Hmmm? Well, what about family?”

The egg mixture fell into a sizzling pan on the stove.

“They all died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She didn’t let the mood stay somber for long, nor did she get the hint to be quiet.

“You must have some friends then, right? Other than me, of course.”

I was tempted to laugh at her. “No friends either. They died too.”

Her face fell. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

For a while she remained silent, chopping some kind of vegetables on the cutting board. When she was finished, she added them to the eggs.

“You’re not a very good conversationalist, are you?” she broke the peace and quiet again.

“I just told you everyone I ever cared about died. What else is there to say?”

She frowned and looked up at me from the pan, spatula in hand. “I’m really sorry about your family and friends. But, life is too short to live in loneliness forever.”

A scoff escaped me. “Not short enough if you ask me.”

“Don’t talk like that!” she shouted, true anger showing on her now red face. “Seriously... it’s... it’s not right.”

“Something smells burned.”

“Ah!” She panicked, running back to the smoking pan. Letting out a small moan of despair, Zophie flipped the slightly over-toasted omelet onto the plate that had been sitting out. I heard her hiccup, and though her back was facing me, I thought I saw something wet slide down her cheek.

“I’ve ruined it,” she whispered to herself so quietly most mortals wouldn’t have heard her.

Something rose up in my chest, something I thought I’d lost long ago and thus had become quite unfamiliar. Guilt.

“I’m sorry.” The words flew out of me, almost uncontrollably.

“It’s okay!” She slapped both her cheeks. “Everything’s okay!” she tried to convince herself. Wiping away the tears, she put the omelet on the cutting board and carefully sliced the bottom charred bit away. “See! Good as new.”

With a flourish, she re-plated the omelet, grabbed a fork, and placed it in front of me.

“Come sit next to me,” I suggested.

“Okay.”

After she made it around the counter and sat down on the stool next to me, I used my fork to cut a small edge off the omelet and took a bite. Flavor exploded in my mouth, and despite the mistake at the end, it was by far the most delicious omelet I’d ever tasted. And, I’d been on earth for centuries.

I scooted the plate away and put it right in front of the girl. “It’s delicious, you try some.” I still couldn’t bring myself to smile.

“Really? You like it? I can make a new one since I messed that one up.”

“No, it’s fine. I ate just before I came home. You have the rest,” I insisted, trying to pass the fork over to her as well. She wouldn’t take it.

Her face looked hesitant. “But it’s your food. You bought it and everything.”

“And I’m giving it to you.” I forced the fork into her hand, grabbing her fingers and wrapping them around the handle.

She still looked hesitant, but then her stomach rumbled so loudly it echoed down the hall. Her face blushed crimson, crawling all the way up to her ears. “I guess I can have a small bite,” she murmured.

After the first slow forkful, she devoured the rest of the omelet at an unprecedented rate, gobbling it so fast I thought she might choke. Once it was all gone, she looked at the plate with shock, as if she herself couldn’t believe what she’d done.

“I’msosorry!” she rushed the words out, practically bowing her head to me. “I was so hungry I didn’t leave anymore for you!”

“That’s alright,” I easily dismissed her worries. “How about you go make another omelet right now?”

“Got it.” She brought her fist up with pure determination.

Without another word, she rushed into the kitchen, already whisking up more egg mixture. “This time I’ll put cheese on it! Cheese is delicious.”

“Sounds good.” I didn’t care one whit. She’d eat this one too, anyway.