Auraprose — Creative Writing Series
Are We Speaking The Same Language?
A reflection on communicating love in all its forms.
I’m focused on the intense green shade of broccoli, the contrast of colours on my white plate. I’m slicing intently, silently because I want time to pass slowly. I’m waiting for him to say something. The grinding sound of the steel knife’s serrated edge tearing through the slab of meat on his plate brings my focus to his face. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are locked on his meal. Between the second it takes me to glance at the clock ticking on the wall behind him and then back at him, he has averted his eyes from me back to his meal. At least, I think he does. It was so quick I can’t be sure. I can hear the food being bitten and chewed and churned in his mouth. It sounds hurried which tells me he wants time to pass quickly. He isn’t going to say anything.
I expected to come home to a conversation, I came home to music playing above the noise of the whirring oven fan, the clatter of cooking utensils against stainless steel pans, and the smell of sizzling meat on high heat. I stood at the kitchen door observing him. His movements fluid, coursing between the stove and the sink. Standing at the stove, he quickly shifts his face away from the steam as he lifts the lid off the steam…
