Knock Knock Knock
The sound was sharp and insistent. Three hard raps that cut straight through the warm haze of breakfast smells.
A loud and annoyed sigh rolled out from the kitchen like a low growl.
"Are you getting it Nya agh?" Crank questioned from the kitchen, annoyed himself. "They always love to disturb us when I'm cooking something."
Pans hissed softly on the stove. Sausage links popped and sizzled, releasing curls of smoky, peppery fat into the air. The cinnamon waffles were almost done; their edges had turned that perfect deep-golden crisp, and the faint sugary scent mingled with fresh coffee grounds Crank had just scooped into the filter. It was the kind of smell that made stomachs rumble from three rooms away. And yet, like clockwork, the universe decided this was the exact moment to send visitors.
"Yeah I got it." Nyashara replied with a shake of the head.
