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The Best Ones Just Happen
BY FRANCISCO MACIEL That day felt no different from any other day. I came home a bit early from school and found her sitting on the couch. I had a job interview for a cooking job. I didn’t really need the money but I missed working in a kitchen. I had worked in a kitchen a few years back, and since then I had had a zeal for cooking and food. Cooking in a kitchen for guests (whether paid or not) satisfied a need to provide. It satisfies a need to give back to someone. Up until then I had let my facial hair grow in for a while. I…
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The Non-Date
BY FRANCISCO MACIEL That Saturday morning was our first weekend together in the apartment. It was a strange feeling waking up and walking out of my room to her, but seeing her sitting there at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cheerios felt so natural. Her ‘good mornings’ were always so sweet. They always brightened up my days, and made me wonder about what we’d be like as a couple. The vase with roses from her boyfriend on the table cut those thoughts short. After a week of living together and having to sit on the floor every time we watched tv, we both agreed we needed a couch.…
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The Adopted Coffee Table
BY FRANCISCO MACIEL Peoples first reaction when I mentioned I’d be moving in with a girl was that we’d end up dating, together, fucking, or in some way in a messy situation. They weren’t wrong but they weren’t right either. Living with someone of the opposite sex is like a sexless marriage in some respects. You pick furniture together, you split house chores between the two of you, you cook dinner together, and you help each other pick outfits. She’d go on job interviews and have me help her with picking out an outfit. I’d shave my beard and ask for her input for how it’d look better. This sexless…
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Moving in with a chick
By Francisco Maciel Move in day. The beginning of this wild, passionate, strange story. I have had roommates before, but this was different. Before I begin let me tell you a bit about myself. An average self image: long black hair –usually in a so called man-bun, olive skin, dark eyes, and a constant questioning of reality. I study physics but have a deep love for the arts. In an inexplicable way the arts became my only path to sorrow, happiness, and peace. Now on to her. Adventure in her spirit –moving to another country alone does that to people–, curly jet black hair, perpetually cold hands, sad eyes that…
