Pancakes

She'd left him upstairs, his body tangled in a mess of sheets from the hot, sticky evening prior. The sky was grey and cloudy this morning, but she just tugged the worn, green 'Faber' jersey closer around her chest. Yawning softly, and blinking slowly, she let her bare feet pad down the carpeted stairs and into the lounge room. Throwing the curtains open, what little sunlight streamed into the room was beautiful, playing on the carpet and setting off rainbows. With a soft, dreamy smile on her face, she moved into the kitchen, assembling the ingredients for her famous buttermilk pancakes. The coffee pot kicked into action, humming and buzzing as the slightly bitter scent filled the air. Singing softly as she mixed the batter and heated up a frying pan, she was surprised when a pair of arms slid around her waist, pulling her into him tightly before his hand rose to wipe the smudge of flour off her cheek.