Victor
I sit at the small table in my unbuttoned jeans as my kitten prepares my breakfast. I purposely supplied the cabin with foods I knew she wouldn't normally eat.
“Pancakes?" she asks, looking at the box.
“Pancakes."
“What will I eat?" Her bruised ass shows as she leans naked, searching the refrigerator.
“Pancakes."
She spins toward me, her lips parted to speak. I know what she normally eats for breakfast. There is no fruit or yogurt in the refrigerator. With its sparse contents, she knows that too. I watch as she fights her normal response to argue.
But this isn't normal. It is our future.
“B-but, Sir."
“Cook. And there's bacon too."
She pulls the container from the refrigerator. It's not the precooked kind. It will require her frying it. The way she's holding it—her cu
