All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

Memory 14: You taste like sausage and egg mcmuffin

You taste like sausage and egg muffinOne of Samantha’s idiosyncrasies was how she ate sausage and egg McMuffins. Instead of just biting into one, she first had to completely dismantle it; separating the buns before removing the sausage and egg, before eating each item separately. This utterly bizarre ritual was one of the most random things that I’d ever seen and, instead of eating my own muffin, I spent several minutes staring at the oddity that was occurring before me. She knew I thought it strange as her eyes, wide and full of magic, kept flitting to meet mine as she slurped the next individual item into her mouth.

After completing her first mcmuffin, she informed me that ever since she was a child she had an irrational issue of eating different foodstuffs together, hence the separating of each food group before eating them. As she dismantled her second, she told me that when she went to restaurants she couldn’t order foods that were mixed together (such as burgers, pasta dishes, salads etc.) as eating them drew more questions from her companions than it was worth.

It was yet another thing that, when I look back on our brief time together, makes me love her even more. Instead of taking the well-worn path that everyone else takes, Sammi danced to her own tune.

I was so enamored with her in that moment that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was lying on her front, her fingers soiled with cheese and egg, with half a sausage patty hanging out of her mouth, but I thought she was the most beautiful creature that I’d ever seen. With her skirt hanging around the delicious curves of her body, a strip of flesh visible on her back that her shirt failed to cover and her head a mess of un-brushed knotted tangles, all I could think about was kissing her.

It hadn’t come up at any point since meeting up with her the day before. Even when she’d slept half naked on top of me, sexual intimacy was the last thing on my mind because I didn’t want to destroy the near-perfect time we’d spent together. But now?

She narrowed her eyes and garbled what, the sausage hanging out her mouth like a second tongue.

“Nothing,” I said, sucking down some of my orange juice.

“Nah, it’s something,”

“I was just thinking…” I paused.

“Thinking what? That me eating this sausage is the most disgusting thing you’ve ever seen?”

“I was just thinking how much I want to kiss you right now,”

As she convulsed into laughter the sausage spat out her mouth and slapped onto the wrapper before her. She raised her fingers, squeezing the air, as she drifted into a diatribe about how – when she was all blissful and beautiful this morning I had done nothing, but now that she was scummy and messy with bits of egg and chunks of sausage…

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it,”

“Andrew, I love it when you’re honest with me. And who wouldn’t want to kiss me,”

“You tasted of strawberries last time I kissed you,”

She smirked. “Maybe we should find out if I still do,”

A minute later I can categorically tell you she didn’t taste of strawberries, but that rather unique concoction of McDonalds meat patty, processed cheese and a hint of fried egg.

Memory 13: Don’t you want to stand? ~ INDEX ~ Memory 15: Last Hurrah

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