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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2216601-An-Ebony-Confectionary
Rated: E · Fiction · Young Adult · #2216601
A memory of two friends.
An Ebony Confectionary

It was a chilly morning on October 24th and as the early rays of light began to descend down into the earth to coat the inhabitants in a warm glow, the earth woke. A light breeze swept through the air, the tendrils of cool air sending bright colors to swirl into the air. The emerging leaves of fall danced with such an air of grace one could imagine the swirling colors were dancers leaping through the air. Or maybe it resembled confetti, raining down on the crowd before it too fell soundless to the ground. A splash of a painter’s brush splattered the sky, where shades of pink and orange clashed, a secret beauty only to be beheld by the earliest of risers and the stillest of animals. Today however, it was to be witnessed by a chocolate haired, golden skinned, teenage girl.

She was sixteen, and if not for the first time in her young life, wondering why in the name of everything holy was she awake at this time. It was early, and it was the weekend; that meant sleep. The wavy strands of the teenager’s hair blew in the wind, sending soft tendrils of brown to tickle her cheeks, a grin forming on her lips. Her gaze was fixated on the heavens, for the majestic sight reminded her of something akin to Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. Inhaling the crisp air for a final time, she turned on her heel and made the trek back towards her house.

The sounds of muted talking greeted her ears as she slipped inside the front door. It was her mother’s tv, loud enough to be heard across the house and still going despite its sleeping host. The earlier week had exhausted the doctor, and when she fell into the warm embrace of sleep there would be no waking her until she opened her eyes herself. In a room across the house from her mothers lay the same type of person, but less used to the effects of adulthood, and much younger. Wakie wakie Cory. Smirking, the brown haired cocoa bean walked into her pastel colored room, kicked her shoes off, and jumped on the sleeping teenager.

“Ah! Mia! Porqúe?!” Her smirk widened. The Spanish coming from her English friend wasn’t very surprising; they had been studying the language for over a year. Though it was interesting to see her spit it out so early in the morning, especially since she had just woken up. Looks like I surprised her more than I meant to. The 15 year old was strong and decently agile from years at the gym and fighting in MMA tournaments, and if given the chance could have pinned the smaller girl in seconds. She rose above her friend in height, just a few inches taller, while her muddy brown hair flowed down to her shoulder blades, and a lazy smirk crossed her lips.

“Perdón, perdón Malia. But you weren’t awake, what was I supposed to do?” A sly grin crossed her features as she innocently uttered the words. There were many different ways she could have woken her tall friend, but most she had already done. Besides, the two were best friends, and as the years progressed so did the hilarious bond they shared. It had been four years now, and as so many things changed in their world, this was one they were adamant would be a constant.

“Nah, you’re not sorry. Now get off me,” Mia rolled her eyes in response but didn’t move. After all, it was much more fun to annoy her friend instead of complying with her wishes. But she was forced from her comfortable spot anyway when Malia shoved the tinier girl off her tired limbs, a small grin tugging at her pink lips when she fell with an ‘oomph!’ Sliding off the white comforter, Mia stood and surveyed the room as her friend stood up and changed behind her. She had cleaned it a few hours before going and picking Malia up. There was a small stuffed bear plopped on her chest of drawers. It looked so sad and lonely as it stared back. Its beady black eyes stared out with a forlorn expression, while a blood red bow tie adorned its neck. The animal was small, but to her it meant something. It had been a gift from her grandmother ever since she had visited the ailing woman two summers ago on her birthday. She wouldn’t trade it for gold.

“Alright I’m good. What do you want to do?” The calm voice shook through her thoughts, sending them crawling back into the depths of warm memories and fun adventures.

“You feel like making a cake? I put the stuff out earlier,” With a small creek, she opened the door wider and walked towards the kitchen, not waiting for a response. Both girls loved to cook delectable confectionary treats, and they had already agreed to do whatever the other suggested if no other option was available. The soft pad of feet following her was the only inclination that her friend agreed to such a thing without voicing anything. Measuring cups, bags and cans of what they needed were set out on the island, with a large bowl and cake pans beside them. The oven temperature was already set to 350°. They were ready to bake.

Loud ridiculous pop music blasted through a small, white cat speaker and a pinch of flour dusted the granite countertop as they stood over the recipe book for a chocolate coffee cake. The reminets of the spilled white powder stuck to her arm, dry and soft.

“Alright you mix the dry ingredients—sugar, salt, flour, baking powder, cocoa, and baking soda—and I’ll mix the wet ingredients,”

The brunette nodded and began to add the powders to measuring cups before dumping them in the bowl. It was now her job to mix the wet ingredients. Pouring the milk into a whole cup, she then transported it to another bowl, where it would then be mixed with the other wet components and finally the dry ones. It was calming, and even therapeutic in its rhythm.

“Hey, I got this done. Are you ready?” Malia passed the bowl of various powders towards her, her eyes alight with happiness. Mia nodded in answer and poured the wet mess into the yellow and orange like basin. A few minutes later and the batter was mixed, well prepared to go into the oven. Opening the lava hot container, the two slid the pans into the mouth and waited for the familiar ding of chocolate goodness being ready.

“So, are you going to show me the videos of last week or what?” A teasing grin lit the 15 year old’s face as she nudged the ripped jeans clad teenager.

“Sure, sure. I do owe you something I suppose.”

She walked over to the couch, plopped down, pulled her phone out, and threw it at her friend as she sat down next. Her legs were thrown over Malia’s and the other's head was laying on her shoulder. It was a normal routine for the two to use each other as furniture, so the simple act of being able to lean against each other brought comfort after not being with each other for so long.

Only ten minutes later and rich, warm scents of cocoa were already wafting through the air, mixing with the smell of coffee beans and laughter to create a beautiful elixir of joy and sugar. This would be a day she would remember for many years to come, and it was all because of her insatiable sweet tooth and a fifteen year old’s drowsy mind.
© Copyright 2020 Miranda Keening (mirakeening at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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