Peanut Butter

food, healthy, dry

She had a mad craving for peanut butter on toast and she didn’t know why. Uncurling from the sofa, she took the TV control from the table and hit the guide button. Checking the time she say it was a little past eight. The supermarket would still be open.

Turning the TV off, she stood up and gathered her things. Putting on slipper boots and a light jacket, she picked up her car keys and left the house. Locking the door behind eh, she stepped into the surprisingly cool evening. It had been raining all day and everything was still dripping wet.

Getting into a car and setting off, she found the roads to be empty. However, the supermarket car park was busy. Finding the closest space she could, she pulled up her old mini up and turned off the engine. Car headlights flashed behind her then vanished around a corner.

She got out and went into the brightly lit store. A steady flow of people were wandering around looking at the heavily stock shelves and pondering what they needed. She walked around with hurried steps to the right area and looked at all the different brands of peanut butter.

Selecting the shop’s own in the middle price range, she then went to the bread section. Avoiding an old man who couldn’t decided, she grabbed a favorite brand of bread and went to the tills. After paying, she went back to the car and was almost tempted to make a sandwich there and then.

Holding it together, she went home and fore filled her craving.

Bread

Bread, Food, Bake, Loaf Of Bread, Snack, Bread Crust

She walked down the street cradling the loaf of bread like a new baby. Going into her flat and the kitchen, she set the bread down and dug out the butter and jam from the fridge. Sitting down, she remembered she needed a knife and got up quickly to get one.

Opening the bread, she took out two slices and made a jam sandwich. Taking a small bite, she sighed at the sweet taste of jam and the softness of the bread. She took the time to chew and swallow, before having another small bite. Avoiding stuffing her month all at once, she carried on nibbling at the sandwich.

Finishing she settled back, feeling the hunger held at bay but also disappointment. For a moment she debated having another, but then she quickly put everything away. Grabbing her purse, she tipped it up and counted out the two pounds in change she had left. Placing the cool coins back, she wondered how she was going to make that last for the rest of the week.

Banana Bread

She sniffed and wondered what that smell was. Pausing for the first time in hours, she half turned her head to glance at the attic door. A thin paint brush was glued to her dry lips and three more brushes stilled their ball juggling like movements in her hands. The large canvas before her demanded her attention back.

She looked at the overall painting and not just the small bottom sections she had been working on. It was a dark under the ocean scene with just a hint of rolling waves on top. She put down the paint brushes, gently removed the one from her mouth and stood up. Her body ached and protested, but still her bones clicked back and her muscles moved.

She walked away stiffly, like an hundred year old woman then turned once she had reached the bookcase. The painting filled her vision and the sweet banana smell lingered around her. What is that? She wondered and smelt the air again. It was a warm and rich aroma that hummed of homemade baking. It sang to her like a child with a sugary voice.

She shook her head and zoned back into the painting. The wreckages of ships both wooden and metal loomed out of the dark and eerie water. Sea weed and other salt water plants floated next to them whilst sea creatures of all kinds filled the rest of the space. It was good, life like yet with a handful of dark fantasy.

She took a note of different things, for example; the Kraken wrapped around the first wooden ship needed finishing. The hammerhead shark in the porthole faded too much into the background and she needed luminous paint for the jellyfishes. She hobbled back to her stool and sat down again. The two tables on both sides of the canvas and easel where packed with paints, brushes, jars of water, mixing trays, paper sketches and printed coloured photographs. She shuffled through everything and found an image of the hammerhead shark.

The colour is too dark, she realised as she compared things. Gathering a selection of grey paints, she began to figure out which one was accurate. The heavy whiffs of banana hugged around her and tugged her stomach away. Putting down the paints were a sigh, she got up and undid the apron covering her. Abandoning the paint encrusted fabric on the stool, she went to the attic door.

Opening it, she went down the steep staircase with bubbling regret. She stopped at the bottom and looked back up, knowing the painting wouldn’t be finished in time if she did this. She breathed deeply and the cake smell reassured her. She’d feel better it seemed to add. She went across the landing and down the two flights of main stairs to the kitchen.

She stopped at the half opened door and looked in. All she could see was the side of the fridge-freezer, some cupboards and to the other side, the edge of the kitchen table. The smell was at its peak but mingling with the hot oven and lemon cleaner. She opened the door, unable to stop herself and walked in.

From the table, her husband looked up guilty. Wordlessly, he slid an already full bowl over to her. The sight of banana bread in custard brought her almost to tears.

**********

The Story Files is now on Tumblr! http://thestoryfilesblog.tumblr.com/

Still on Facebook too: https://www.facebook.com/thestoryfiles