#typewritings

Normally you would awaken earlier than him, as you were typically the one who’d prepare breakfast. Today, however, was different, as the smell of something burning had shaken you awake.

In a panic, you check the time: 10:43 am. At least you didn’t have work today.

Clambering out of bed, you rush to the kitchen to find your husband whisper-shouting at a pan, black smoke rising as he attempted to scrape off the charred remains of whatever he was trying to make.

You cough, unwillingly, and he whips his head around to face you, face flushed with red. He tries to stammer and explanation, but you shoosh him, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder, and help him clean up.