What a mess

She woke up with a perplexed mind. With no ventilation and impenetrable windows, she felt stuffy. She exited the bed, walked on the cool wooden floor, and opened the window. A cool gust of wind entered the room and heightened her senses.

Breathing in the cool air, she closed her eyes. After a while, she gazed outside, and the streets were covered in snow. The houses had an A-framed roof and were no taller than two stories. All the lights were out except for one house, where a dim orange light glowed.

All of a sudden, her stomach grumbled. "Grr!" ".."

It was far too early to ask her so-called housemate Hael to have breakfast, and she did not know how to cook. She closed the curtains and slipped into her morning gown. Barefoot, she walked downstairs and unlocked her luggage to check for a few supplies.

"Thank goodness for the thoughtfulness of Delia," she said, filled with gratitude. She grabbed the pouch with makeup and a pair of boots. With the short-heeled boots, she entered the dining room, did her hair and face, and placed them back in the luggage.

"Grr!" her tummy grumbled once again.

Being at a standstill, she decided to make bread by herself after all; how hard could it be? She had grown up observing her mother cook. With blind optimism, she started to search for the ingredients required.

She found the flour in the lower pantry and the butter as well. Um, maybe they're the requirement? She didn't know. She added flour and butter to a large bowl. Then she grabbed the water jug and poured it.

She poured more than required; the consistency was two-thirds water.

Her hands were sticky, and the counter had flour bits everywhere. At the same moment, Hael walked downstairs. The unceasing sound from the kitchen made him wary.

As he entered, he heard a grumble, "Grr!". Ahead of him was the messy kitchen covered with flour and Luiza, whose hands were basked inside a bowl. The butter was left open, and so was the water jug.

"What?" he squinted his eyes. "Are you doing it at such an early hour?" His lips pursed as his kitchen had been abominated.

"Um," she gulped and gave a fickle smile. "I was trying to cook.

With detested eyes, he said, "Wash your hands and wipe off that flour on your face. I shall clean the kitchen, and we can head out to have breakfast."

Like a little mouse, she instantly washed her hands and went to the other room, where her luggage was present. She took out her mirror, whipped off her dress, and carried a few silver coins.

Hael wiped the counters and threw away the raw doe. He too went upstairs and wore a chocolate brown shirt and waistcoat and a frock coat over it, along with grey pants and boots. Downstairs, Luiza awaited in a prim posture.

"Let's go," he said, and she followed him behind. They stepped out of the house, and he locked the doors. The streets were like a big white blanket. She carefully stepped on the snow. Her cheeks and ears were rosy, and behind her was Hael.

In a delighted manner, she continued to step on the snow, and Hael walked beside her. As she walked, she reminisced about the scene from the night the other day. The man beside her blushed like a cherry when she asked if he had changed her clothes, and looking away, he denied it. She softly giggled and walked. 

"Was the day as beautiful as this, when I had sunk?" she whispered. Her head tilted down, gazing at her footprints and sparing a glance or two at his footprints.

"It was," he said, letting out a breathy voice. "It was a beautiful day. The snow fell like a blessing from heaven when I got you out of the river. The birds chirped, but the rest was peaceful."

She gazed at him as he said those words. Perhaps it was truly a beautiful day. But he felt more beautiful around her. The silence enveloped the two, and they walked near a house that had a distinct smell of cinnamon.

He stopped his tracks and turned to the house. A wooden board was placed near the door, which read: Family Bakery.

"Let's go here," he suggested, and Luiza, who had walked a few steps ahead, stopped and followed him. They opened the door, and the bell above the door rang, and they entered. The fireplace was lit, and the warmth surrounded them.

Only after getting inside did, she realize her hands were frozen cold.

"Good morning." A lady's voice was heard. She looked around, and at the counter, she found a woman in her late forties, wearing an apron and a wrinkly but happy smile.

"What would you youngsters like to have?" Her eyes crinkled. She had a blissful face. Hael walked closer to the counter, and so did Luiza. The glass panel showcased the items stacked and kept inside the cabinet. There were cinnamon rolls and pies, and at the counter were a few baskets of bread loaves.

"What do you want to have?" Hael asked in a lower voice and brought Luiza back to her senses.

"Uh, warm cinnamon rolls, wheat bread, and tea if they are available?" she ordered, and the older women let out a little laughter.

"Sure, dear, and what about you, gentleman?"

"Same as her, but I would like coffee."

They then walked to one of the tables, which was near the fireplace. "Grr!" her tummy grumbled again.

'Uh! Why now!' She swore she could dig a hole and hide herself.

"You have a big appetite, perhaps," he commenced in an unfazed manner. The blood rushed to her face, and she could not hide her embarrassment. That was not ladylike at all!

"I do not!" she protested for her dignity.

Hael was about to speak up when the woman interrupted, "It is good to have an appetite, little girl. Oh! Youngster these days. Wishing to follow the higher society's trends but forgetting that we commoners need to work in the field and do many manual labors So eat well!" she said delightfully.

"Sure," she whispered, and she immediately took hold of the cinnamon rolls and took a bite.

She took a big bite of the cinnamon roll. Cinnamon and raisins created a sweet but slightly sour taste, which she loved. She took sips of her tea in between while Hael glanced at her as he had breakfast. 

"Ho ho, your partner has an excellent appetite, young man," the older woman patted him on the shoulders. "You are fortunate."