I awoke to the smell of burning food. I jumped out of bed and rushed into the kitchen, my feet cold upon the floor.
It was like an army of children had been trying to cook. There were several mixing bowls placed haphazardly throughout, filled with unknown things. The counter was covered with flour, spatterings of some kind of batter, and what looked like chocolate chips.
On the table was a plate piled with pancakes, some were burnt and some looked mostly raw.
Over all of that chaos presided my boyfriend. When he noticed me, he smiled, saying, “Birthday breakfast?”