I woke up one Sunday morning with an intense but not unwarranted craving for hotcakes. Half the time, I wake up wanting hotcakes and most of the time, I wouldn't have a clue why. But I guess if I have to ask myself, I always had the answer.

The particular hotcake you're staring at right now at your left corner is one of the rare moments that I actually made it to breakfast and it wasn't because someone pointed a gun to my face. I sat at the edge of my bed for a while, and brushed my teeth and changed and put on my favorite sneakers and head out.

Walking on the streets, I kept forgetting not everyone is as susceptible to blue hair and half-finished tattoos like someone with blue hair and half-finished tattoos would be. So, with much scrutinizing aside, I made my way to McDonalds and ordered myself a Breakfast Deluxe. The good people missed out on my hotcakes on the first try but they got it. I found a seat by the window because I love a seat by the window where the beams of sunshine pour in and if it was pouring heavily outside, I get first class seating to a rain-splattering orchestra. As I eat, I realized how much I have taken having company for granted. I miss how it's all very mundane and romantic yet so difficult to achieve. In a different format, it was on a glass table, in a warm kitchen.

I would wake up to the sweet scent of butter melting on a hot skillet and then cooked batter and honey. I would walk in to see a bottle of whipped cream and fresh strawberries and blueberries and "unbruised OJ" as she liked to call it. Personally, I have never heard of bruised juice but if she insist, then make me a true believer. I stared at the bottle of whipped cream and I burst into laughter. "What?" "Nothing." I said, trying to stifle another laughter. "Ok, I know what that head of yours is thinking about." "Oh, I'm sure you do." I whispered under my breath as I placed a kiss on the back of her head, taking in a generous whiff of her vanilla shampoo. "Hmm, I love how you smell after a shower..." I pulled the chair out and sat down. "Funny shapes are fine, sweetie,"

"What are you reading?" "Just a book about writing. It talks about how one shapes and enriches one's life with the choices he or she makes. The choices are essentially endless and with every direction one makes, each corner he/she should turn, it's a different outcome. This is true for life too, like how I turn a corner at the bookstore and I met you." "Interesting read and coffee, never forget coffee, oh and honey, reading at the breakfast table...not so good." "All right, I'm putting it away." "That's my girl." "So what else do I get for being a good girl?" "You mean, breakfast's not enough?" "Well, I just think it would be a huge pity to let that can of whipped cream go to waste. I bet there are a few shots left in there. And you of all people would agree we shouldn't waste food." She let out a soft sigh. "What do you have in mind?"

Turns out, it has nothing to do with hotcakes.