Romancing Chef

I’m trying a new title. Let’s see if it works.

Papermashed

He sat there in gloom
covered in soot from head to toe
his nice suit marred and slightly charred,
what he set out to do
and ended up happening.
He eyed his watch, almost 12:15
in the night that is,
and she would be here shortly
tired from her trip, and perhaps hungry
and what a brilliant moment that had been
when the idea had struck him like gold
that he should make a romantic dinner for her
crack open a bottle of sparkling wine
and douse her exhaustion in music sublime.
How ever did that idea turn to this
with him sitting sooty and coughing
between the smoldering remains of a house that was
before his culinary skills brought it to the ground
leaving all but the sky above peering down.
That’s when he saw the headlights of her car
pull a corner and slow down
obviously in shock…

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