5.11/2

She had forgotten that he was still asleep in his room as she danced through the kitchen, living room. It was breakfast time, but, as usual, she wasn't hungry yet. She stared at the kettle and considered telekinesis- is this how she would use it? or would it be a waste to use such a powerful skill on switches? She would probably use it to switch on the thermostat. She probably wouldn't need to walk any more. Can you transport yourself? Yes. You always see the most powerful mutants floating themselves through the air.
They are always crippled though. Is it because they've lost the use of their legs?
Today was a green tea and ginger sort of day; spicy but nice.
Everyone needed a lot of help.
As humans we are incapable of handling ourselves. As humans we have collective knowledge. Otherwise, we are Tarzan.
She let out an "AHYAHYAHYAHYAHHHH" and beat her chest firmly while the kettle simmered.
Proteins were low. She chewed leftover roast beef out of the tub, hunched over, fridge open. Tarzan would never eat this way. He would swing through the forest, picking mangos.
He appeared in the kitchen. His linen boxers creased from the bed. He smelled of sweat, sleep and a tinge of sex.
She kept her eyes glued in the container as he stopped and looked at her.
"What's with the yelling?", he asked quietly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Hm?"
"The yelling?...... nevermind." He opened the fridge wider and brushed past her to grab eggs and sausage. "If you are going to keep getting up at 4am, could you please turn on the heat?"
She nodded and put the picked-over meat back in the fridge.
The kettle was done.
"Tea?", she asked.
"Please."
She poured two glasses and began to leave the kitchen.
"Wait. Can you hang out while I cook these?", he whispered.
The silence of the early morning was barely broken as she hopped up on the counter and blew the steam off her  tea.
The sausage began to sizzle in the pan, and he asked how she had slept.
"My room was too warm." She could see the goose skin formed in the small of his back. Shivers were occasionally running over his muscles.
She liked watching him slightly suffer. Only enough to spark creativity. She wanted him to experience life.
He predictably apologized and kicked his slipper around in front of the stove. He turned to look at her and she again avoided eye contact. "Was your bed okay?"
"Sure". In reality, the bed was great, the room was perfect, this house was perfect, she just didn't want to be here. He was too self righteous. His brain was calm. He would try to fix her and care for her.
He cleared his throat, and she left the room.