A Meal For Me.

I gently cracked the egg on the marble counter and pried it open as the yolk and whites spilled onto the pan, in the shape of a perfect circle.

I turned the heat higher for a moment, only for a moment, and it sizzled as the clear whites actually became white.

*turns the stove knob to low*

The fire was ceasing and the egg was almost ready, the middle looked half-cooked, my favourite kind, and the edges rimmed with brown.

A few more seconds and it would be ready to move from the pan to the plate.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..

I carefully nudged the spatula under the egg and precisely, gently flopped it onto the blue ceramic plate.

Alright, the egg's done.

I put the spatula in the spatula stand beside the stove, and turn my body towards the refrigerator, before slowly moving towards it.

I walked only a few steps, from the counter to the fridge, and opened the freezer door with quick and agile movements.

I slid a pack of beef bacon from the top shelf then proceeded to close the freezer door, turn around once more, but this time, towards the sink, not the refrigerator.

I switched the tap in the sink from normal to hot and as the steaming water gushed out I put the pack of frozen bacon underneath it, as the inside began to melt and the ice slowly disperse.

I switched the tap once again, now back to normal and rinsed the pack of bacon once last time before I cut it open.

When I cut it open the bacon slid smoothly from the plastic packaging to the brown bowl I had prepared a few minutes earlier, for the sole purpose of the bacon's temporary place, before it enters the hot oil.

The bacon was ready to be cooked now.

I carefully used a pair of long tongs to lift, one by one, the bacon from the bowl to the pan and as the bacon crashed through the surface of parching oil, it sizzled, splashed and splattered.

When all the bacon was inside the pan, I set a timer, which was set a beside the sink, for twelve minutes.

While the timer ticked away, counting time, I came in possession of the cutting board, a knife, and tomatoes, cucumbers and potatoes.

I sharpened my knife to the point of silvery shine and I washed the vegetables. When the vegetables were nice and clean, I sliced the cucumber with the dexterity of someone who has done something over and over again, daily, and is able to do that certain thing with effortless ease.

The cucumber, now thinly sliced, I put away on another ceramic plate, this time yellow. The tomatoes I treated the same way, and as it turned form from circle to slim slivers, I moved it again to the yellow plate.

I masterly cut the potato into long, thick sticks, the shape of French fries, which were actually first invented in Belgium in the year 1789.

The timer rang sharply through the room, startling me out of my wits and in the process, slit my finger with my honed knife.

''Ouch!'' I said, ''This be-damned thing,'' I cursed as I hobbled across the room, sucking my finger and shutting the accursed timer.

I walked to the sink and rinsed my cut and the water turned red as it flowed through my finger.

I opened the first-aid kit box hung on the wall beside the fridge and searched for a bandage. When I finally found it, I peeled it open and stuck it on my finger, securely tightening it around the wound.

I went back to the task that didn't seem quite inviting now, for I was still grumbling to myself at my own foolishness.

The potato was now ready to fry and I used the oil drainer and drained the bacon as I slipped the potato slices, one by one, into the parching oil.

Once the potato was in, the oil crackled and hissed as I went to plate the egg and bacon, after setting a timer for five minutes.

Right, now the beef bacon and egg was plated, and I arranged and re-arranged the thinly-sliced cucumbers and tomatoes around the plate, using gloves as a safety precaution.

As I was doing that, the bell suddenly rang, and I went to the door to open it. Great, my Panda Express fried rice had arrived.

I thanked and paid the driver and went back to the kitchen, unboxing the box of rice as I was walking.

I finished plating the modest garnish of tomatoes and cucumbers and then went on to pile the fried rice in the middle of the plate.

The bell rang a second time and this time I was ready for it, for I counted every tick of the timer, not wanting to get scared out of my wits again for such a thing.

I quenched the potatoes of oil and arranged it beside the pretty mound of brown, savoury fried rice.

The meal was finally ready and I set it on the table with a glass of iced lemonade beside it. I took off my apron and hung it back on the hanger and sat down on the table, clicking open 'Instagram' on my phone.

I searched through the filters and found the perfect one, ''Paris Night Sky'' which had a blurred look which I loved. I held my phone at an angle, and rapidly snapped a few pictures.

Clicking a few more buttons and the pictures were posted.

Now, I set down my phone and replaced it with a fork and spoon as I started to disperse of the meal.

The savoury rice hit my tongue and made it burst with flavours as fireworks bright in the night sky.

In a few minutes, the delicious meal was gone, now comfortably situated in my stomach, and why was it gone so quickly? The answer was that I was famished that's why I quickly devoured it.

The end.

P.S. Hope y'all are not hungry now.. :)