Maureen

Maureen stepped from the shower, her body glistening from the spray of water, her blonde hair draped across one shoulder like a thick golden ribbon.  Rubbing her trim body vigorously with a towel brought a rosy blush to her fair skin.  Trapping her hair in another towel, she swept the ends into a turban before dropping the first to the floor and strolling to the kitchen.  Rooting through the cupboard, her hand snaked through a maze of cereal boxes.  The Rice Crispies box refused to speak; in the bottom of the Frosted Flakes box the two lone flakes comforted each other amongst the crumbs.  Her hand veered past the Grapenuts as if it were wrapped in poison ivy; she was hungry, not desperate.  Aha, paydirt!  She snatched the Fruit Loops from their hiding place and dragged them into the light of day.  Opening the fridge, she shook three quart cartons before finding one that sloshed rather than thunked. Her eyes roved among the countertops and the sink: a bowl and a spoon.  The bowl tilting in the top of the sink was a lost cause; last week's stew now part of the pottery.  The bowl nestled among the riot of the counter required a haircut before it could be used.  She wrinkled her button of nose at it and wandered to the living room.  There, camouflaged by the fast food wrappers of several meals, the candy dish hunkered down, trying to stay out of her line of sight.  Perfect!  The sugar encrusting the bottom would only sweeten her breakfast further.  Carelessly plucking a spoon at random from the litter, she dropped onto the couch and swept half of the wrappers onto the floor to find the remote.  Nothing like a little WWF with breakfast.

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