He unwrapped the cloth from my shoulder and looked me in the eye. "This is going to hurt,"

He had two soft-looking washcloths in his hand, though they felt rough against my sore skin. He carefully wiped the pus away and streaks of colour danced across my vision as a sharp, shooting pain ran through my shoulder, making me feel dizzy. I squeezed my eyes closed and chewed on my knuckle, holding back a scream. I couldn't believe how much it hurt.

He placed the other one where the first had been and held it there. This one was warm and damp, which would have felt lovely if it weren't for the fuzzy pieces rubbing against the tender cut.

Once it was done, he removed the washcloth extremely slowly, trying not to make it hurt, but the blood had dried against it. If that's never happened to you, then good for you! Not so good for me. He peeled it away and I lost all feeling in my whole arm.

And that was the not-so-lovely new routine.

~~~

I made dinner as usual. Though he'd told me otherwise, I felt like I had to earn my keep. I don't know how he survived anyway, he really couldn't cook. We had lentil soup, which came out alright, even though he didn't have all the spices.

"This is very good, Linda," He said after swallowing a spoonful. "Have you ever thought about writing your own cookbook?"

"No, I haven't," The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. "Do you think I should?"

He nodded. "I think it would be lovely,"

I smiled down at my soup. I had a sneaking suspicion that he liked me. I mean, he could just be a generous gentleman, but the way he gazed at me when he thought I wasn't looking told me otherwise.

I liked him a lot. He had a radiant charm about him that made him almost addicting to be around. I wasn't really ready to be in a relationship just yet, though. Jake had seemed very nice when I first met him, not the saving-my-life-then-offering-his-home kind of nice, but nice. I didn't want to make the same mistake twice, so awkward dinners it was.