The bed creaked as he adjusted his weight. Oliver spat one away from his lips and leaned sideways. The chair squeaked and turned, knocking into the desk, and feathers from Dani’s latest costume design puffed up and began a lazy descent.
Plastic lids slid off the desk chair and clattered to the floor. His ankle turned as he stepped on something soft and he stumbled into a tub before catching himself on a bedpost. Stacked plastic tubs formed a wall between the door and the bed. He would lie in bed the night before she left, picturing her curtains rippling in a fresh breeze-right after he’d settled on what he would serve for breakfast in the morning. He opened the door and leaned into the miasma that had developed roughly three years ago, only ever dissipating when Dani left for summer camp with instructions not to open her windows “because spiders.” Oliver paused outside the door, listening for signs of life before he knocked. Waking a teenager could be like raising the dead advance warning and preparation were always recommended. His footsteps echoed off the risers as he climbed the stairs, his tread deliberately heavy and noisy as he approached Danica’s bedroom. He flicked off the burners and unknotted the strings of his apron. With morning sunlight splashing through the kitchen windows, Oliver slid a second batch of crepes into the warming drawer, stirred the peaches, and nodded with satisfaction. In just five short days, he’d be delivering his best recipe to college: his daughter.
Oliver preferred not to think about what else autumn would bring, but he’d done that too, lying there in the dark, flipping crepes in his mind. But as August waned, along with summer, autumn would bring new fruits and new breakfast options. Last night, it had been the dainty texture of crepes and the sweet contrast of peach compote. He would lie in bed at night considering recipes, already tasting melted butter or the crisp edge of a lightly browned biscuit. Breakfast was Oliver’s favorite meal of the day.
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