“How does it work?”
She pointed to the glass in the door.
“There’s a plate inside that spins around. The microwave heats the food from the inside out.” Then she made a face. “Sorry, that’s all I know. Push a button and it works.”
Callan looked around at her home while they waited for the microwave to cook their food. ’Twas messy and chaotic, and full of brightness, just like her.
“I like your home. ’Tis most colorful.” He blinked. “This kitchen is… ’tis a sight.”
The machine beeped, Daisy opened the door, peeled back the clear cover, stirred the food, and then put it back in the box, punching buttons.
“Thanks. It’s my favorite room in the apartment. The appliances are all new. I love to cook and bake, so I wanted a nice kitchen. You should have seen it when I first moved in, all gray, beige, and boring white everywhere. It was depressing.”
“You have no servants?”
She rolled her eyes as she went to a cabinet and took down brightly colored plates with flowers on them.
“I wish.” She placed a knife and spoon on the table. They were silver, with small animals on the ends. The napkins were cloth, blue and white checkered with a pig on one and some kind of bird embroidered on the other.
“What do you like to bake?” His stomach rumbled at the delicious smell filling the kitchen.
“You know. Cookies, cakes, pies, and pancakes. Sweet stuff.”
She looked around the kitchen as he followed her gaze.
“What’s that?” There were so many marvels in this kitchen, and yet no hearth with a fire burning day and night.
She pointed to a black box on the counter. “That’s for coffee. I can’t function without coffee in the morning.”
He looked closer. “Where does the fire go to cook it?”
“No fire. It’s electric. I put the coffee in the top, and the water heats and drips through the coffee grounds into the pot.”
He sniffed. “It smells verra good.”
Daisy nodded. “I get my coffee from this little shop a few blocks over. It’s to die for. I’ll show you how it works in the morning and you can taste it for yourself.”
She looked at the numbers on the microwave.
“Almost ready.” Daisy dumped little bits into a large bowl and put it on the floor for Frankie, who had been waiting patiently. The dog ate, head in his bowl until the bowl slid across the floor. Then, with what Callan imagined was a sigh of contentment, the dog went back to the bed, turned around three times, and went to sleep.
He looked at the box she called a microwave, then turned as she went to the big white metal box and opened a different door.
“How about a beer with dinner?”
He watched her, looking at all the colorful jars in the lighted box.
“What is that?”
With a shake of her head, she pulled out two bottles. “I’ll tell you all about condiments later. Let’s eat.”
The microwave beeped, and this time he only startled a bit.
“Perfect timing.”
While she gathered the dishes from the microwave, he dutifully carried the cold bottles to the small round table.
“Where’s the bread?”
