Shiloh Preston (estudier) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-10 22:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | piers knight |
Who: Shiloh
What: A narrative
Where: Bathos 106
When: Thursday night
Warnings: None
Shiloh had never claimed himself to be much of a cook. No, he relied mostly on pre-packaged meals, the sort you popped into the oven to heat through, maybe a can of vegetables on the side to make it moderately healthy. He lived the bachelor lifestyle that way, and had never been inclined to develop any sort of cooking skills to speak of. Preston had seen the extent of those skills at their dinner weeks before, which consisted of pasta with jarred sauce and the garlic bread you got out of the frozen food aisle at the store. But tonight, he had tried.
Grilled chicken. Some steamed veg. Steamed rice with just a little butter. Texas toast that was browned just to his liking. It had sat on the table, two place settings, long after it had gone cold and unpalatable. By the time he had gotten word from Poe that no, he wouldn't be arriving, Shiloh had retreated to the living room, perched on the window sill with the window propped open. A pack of cigarettes lay on the sill nearby, a red plastic lighter resting along side them, and he blew a lungful of smoke out into the night sky.
"Lily didn't tell you because she knew you never wanted to be a father. She knew that even before you did, you idiot," Shiloh said to the dark sky, another lungful of smoke clouding his vision before he leaned back, his head pressed against the wall beside the window. Glancing over towards the kitchen, the set table, the cold food, Shiloh had to shake his head in disgust. "Idiot." Snubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray (newly bought the day before, still with the price sticker stuck to the bowl), he turned the lights off in the apartment, ignoring the table and the mess that needed to be cleaned up. It would wait for tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to sleep.