Blotches of textured walls come into focus. Shadowed, raised plaster lines her bedroom, forming minimalist mountains. A tiny version of her body jumps over the obstacles and runs through the valleys of the layers of thick, old paint.

She presses the balls of her feet against the scuffed hardwood of her bedroom and stalks to the kitchen. Her antique refrigerator creaks open, the fluorescents spill across the grain beneath the soles of her legs. She digs her toes into imaginary sand. For the first time in a very long time, she felt a sense of freedom. She can practically feel the rush of ocean water overcome the tops of her feet.

The pit of her stomach drops to her heels with every step. A half-eaten wedge of sharp cheddar is the only illuminated item in the ice box.

"Well, shit," Mara whispers to herself. She's motivated and ready to take on the world but the lack of sustenance in her fridge brings her back to square one. A sudden knock on the front door takes her out of her self-imposed pity party. "COMING!"

The top half of her door swings open. She's blissfully unaware of the attractiveness of the oversized white under tee she wears. The deep v-neck plunges down her chest bone and the bottom hem sits happily atop her miniature plaid shorts that her mother bought her years back for a comfortable night of sleep.

"Harry!" Mara comments in response to the sight of the handsome man on the other side of her threshold. "Come in!"

Harry is disheveled, wearing a white button-up tucked into light-washed jeans. He's been excited to see her since he awoke. To see the bare face of the girl that had bewitched his being. The face that made him feel as though he was walking in a dream. He's halfway embarrassed of his look. He tried. There is no flannel. There are no tears in his denim. The blotch of paint at the lower half of his shirt remains hidden behind the fly of his jeans. He opted for his most studious shirt and bottoms. The garments that he felt made him look most presentable.

He's startled by her adorableness. The sight of her face, makeup-less and framed by natural curls. He thinks himself unworthy to be in her presence. She, however, thinks the opposite. He's reached a godly level of attractiveness that all men strive for. How she adored his ability to flash a sparkling smile and be comfortable amid the early morning discomfort of the stark sunlight.

How is it that this man has never been on a date?

He holds more than a couple dozen eggs in a basket. His arms shake as the bottom half of her door swings open, her braless breasts swaying under her thin shirt, tempting the pieces of his psyche he never knew existed. Her hard nipples lightly press against the fabric, vanquishing the inner corners of his mind and threaten to throw his consciousness into a universe his nerve endings have been dying to explore. She is his Halley's comet. An uncharted piece of land needing to be dug into for a source of truth and hope. Her freckles are the stuff new zodiac signs are created from to give solace to the deeply tragic.

"I promised you we'd find out how to make your eggs, yeah?" Harry holds his basket of goodies by his head.

"Yes, yes. I almost forgot. What do we need?" She didn't forget. She spent the entire night before planning her dialogue, figuring out how to be her most charming self. "Lemme go get my face on." Mara laughs, grabbing her makeup bag from the coffee table and walking to the bathroom.

"No... that's... that's unnecessary." Harry places the groceries on the counter and puts his hand over hers to stop her from lifting the bag. "I'm sorry. Actually... do what you want. You'll look beautiful regardless. Sorry. I just hope you know you don't have to 'put a face on' for me."

Mara hesitates. What makes her feel pretty? What makes her comfortable? These types of questions have never been proposed to her before. Well, they have but she's never had the wherewithal to answer them herself. This moment is vindicating. A small yet sweet release. She's lived the majority of her life dressing for a man that wanted nothing more than a pretty picture of her on his arm. She sits the makeup bag down on the table. Harry smiles to himself when he realizes she's decided to stay in her most natural state.

How could her ex take someone like her for granted?

Their hearts are young and their beings combine for a brief moment. Their anxiety, worries, sweetness and adoration for the other - all things good and bad - melt together, creating a beautiful energy between their bodies. A presence looking to take hold of each of their lives and swallow them whole in the most poetic and romantic way possible.

"What's on the menu, chef?" Mara stands beside him, soaking in the natural smells he's omitting.

How is it he smells so sweet?

"I talked to grandmum," Harry replies, grabbing a list of recipes from his back pocket. "She said we should do scrambled, eggs benedict, fried - over easy and sunny side up - cheese omelet and she made us a quiche to try too." Harry grabs a pie dish from his bag and places it on the counter. "It's ham and cheese." He smiles wide. "I helped."

An hour before he knocked on her door, Harry was pacing back and forth in Betty's kitchen, nervous of his surprise for Mara. Would she be excited to see him? Would she be hungry? Maybe she'll kick him out and tell him to leave her alone. Betty reassured him that Mara would be over the moon to lay her eyes upon Harry's face. She'd seen the way Mara's eyes sparkled at the sight of him. How anyone within a mile radius of Mara could hear her heart pound when he entered a room.

"This was Grandpa Edward's favorite breakfast. I'm sure this will be her favorite." Betty says, rolling out the crust. "Now cut the ham, Harry. You're wasting time. Your date is waiting."

"This smells delicious, Harry." Mara leans down to take in the smell of the salty ham and buttery crust. "Let's do this!" She claps her hands and rubs them together, the friction mirroring her level of excitement.

* * *

"Oh my gosh, I'm so full." Mara sits back on the couch, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over her bare legs.

Harry takes a final bite and looks over at her. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Mm..." Mara eyes each empty plate on the coffee table. "To be totally honest, I think I discovered that I don't think I like plain eggs all that much. The quiche's crust was incredible though. And I can never turn down anything involving melted cheese. Especially in combination with that ham!"

"Betty had a feeling that'd be your favorite. My grandpa wasn't big on eggs either but he always loved that quiche. It was his favorite." Harry wipes the leftover oils on his hands on a small cocktail napkin and nervously rips the edges.

"Thank you so much for doing this for me. I know it seems small but this... all of this... it means a lot."

"Can I show you something really quick?" Harry stands up and puts his hand out for her to grab. She quickly obliges and he leads her to the hallway closet of her apartment. "My grandparents actually used to live in this apartment. For decades. And I lived here with them too. This was our home for as long as I could remember. Then grandpa got sick and couldn't walk up the steps anymore. They moved down to where Betty is now and I moved to the basement when I got older. They hadn't rented out this space since. Well... until you came. They wanted to make sure whoever moved in would take good care of it and grandmum saw something in you. I saw it too."

Mara starts to tear up at Harry's story. The fact he and his family entrusted her with their memories. It's an honor and she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to explain how important their existence is to her at such a crucial point in her life.

"Look," Harry says, stepping into the closet and pulling her inside with him. "See this?" He takes her hand and runs it across a carving in the wall in the back. B + E with a heart around the initials. Betty plus Edward. Their love was engraved into the walls of the home they held so dear. Just beneath their letters was a messily carved "Harry."

"You all did this?" Mara kneels down to take a closer look at the engraving and stands back up to face Harry. The area around them is dark, save a small piece of light creeping through the partially open door. The room could be dark and she'd still be able to see his beaming smile like new car headlights on a night drive.

"Mmhmm. And this." Harry points to the door frame up which various black notches scatter, each mark annotated with a specific age. "They would mark my height every few months."

"This is incredible," she whispers, feeling the ridges of the wood. Soft skin tickles down her knuckles and Harry's fingers interlace with hers.

"I'm really enjoying my first date," Harry says, hesitantly bringing her close. There's something about her that makes him step out of his comfort zone and make the first move. "Is this okay?"

Their breaths are labored as their nervous lungs gasp for air. The past love of Betty and Edward fills the room. Their timeless romance. Their challenged lives, made better by their infatuation with one another. It was as though their souls, laced in the drywall and beams of The Mare's Nest, were finally awake and ready to aid Harry and Mara in their journey to discovering one another.

"Yes," Mara responds.

"Can I kiss you?" Harry gently presses his forehead against Mara's.

"Please," Mara says. The heat of his lips crashes into hers and the sparks between them light the dark closet.

Their lips part and Harry finally speaks. "Can we go on my first second date?"