The Empty Pot By Demi Novels & Stories

I am starting to feel things I did not expect to feel tonight. Then I remember him standing in front of the police today, lying with a straight face. The memory is like a bucket of cold water, suddenly splashing on me. I shake my head in disdain, “No. He is not getting anything from me tonight. Not a single smile, or a single word of praise.” He starts walking back to our table, carrying a small black cast iron pot. He sets it down carefully beside the empty silver plate. The pot is still steaming gently. I can see the pork inside, a beautiful reddish-orange color from the achiote spices, popping against the black pot.

After relieving myself in the bathroom, I padded barefoot into the quiet apartment, following the faint smell of coffee. And there she was. Demetria sat at the small kitchen table, her silk robe draped over her shoulders, pen scratching across her recipe book while steam curled from the mug in her hand. Hair tied up in a messy bun, lips pursed in concentration—my Wildfire, glowing even in the mundane. I leaned against the doorway, watching her like a man starved. “You didn’t even wait for me to wake up before running off to hide in here?” I teased, circling her slowly until I was behind her chair. My hand brushed her shoulder, fingers trailing lightly.

Not of the penthouse—I couldn’t do that—but of my own head. I started cleaning. It was a stupid impulse. But scrubbing the counters, organizing the spices, folding the towels—it gave me something to do. It gave me control. By noon, the penthouse was spotless. It still felt cold. It still felt empty. But at least it was clean. I sat on the couch, exhausted. I picked up a book from the shelf. It was a first edition of *Pride and Prejudice*. Damian’s copy. I opened it. Inside the cover, there was an inscription.

the elderly vendor replied with a smile. "Good thing there's still some left. I thought we wouldn't be able to buy any," Demi replied with a smile to the vendor. She picked up some other fruits and then they shopped with Demi. Matilda really had a knack for being the center of attention, even if others missed out. She was lucky that the basket had better-looking fruits. They just bought one kilo each. Then she bought Skyflakes biscuits and Royal soda. "What are those for?" Demi asked her.

Lily studied the mounds of eggs, ham, pancakes, fresh fruit, toast, fried potatoes, sausage links, and warm biscuits. “So you brought everything?” “I want you to feel at home, Lily.” Meeting the warm, welcoming gaze, Lily squirmed in discomfort. Dammit. This woman was the sort of charming, captivating, completely adorable woman you couldn’t help but love. But Lily didn’t want to love her. Or feel the growing connection. “I…” “Eat,” Demi firmly interrupted. “You’ll feel better.” Shame and something that might’ve been sorrow swirled through her heart, reminding Lily of why she avoided emotional complications. She was bound to disappoint Demi. And Rhye.

She stood still, still looking at that place, surrounded by people coming and going, but she was the only one returning empty-handed. "Demi, why are you coming home late today?" Ace turned his head to look at the wall clock, worriedly asking. Demi Moore pushed him lightly and placed a food bag on the table. "Steamed buns!" Ace's eyes brightened a bit. He loved this dish.

I had my palm on my face after overthinking things. “Come on Kayleen, it’s you who have the demon in you,” I murmured to myself and took the vacuum with me. Remembering about the duster, I went back inside and take it but then some weird thin line on the side of the small table took my attention. I touched it and traced a rectangular shape. I moved the small table and put the things that I’m holding at the side. I tried pushing it and using my nails to at least open it. It’s just too thin.

Demi ignored them for her own sanity. When demi woke up on Sunday it seemed the world was dragging on. She didn’t have to cook or do any of the household chores. It was eerily quiet at the table. Demi was starting to feel unnerved. Soon as she finished her breakfast she shot up from her seat. She wanted to get away before the bomb went off. “May I be excused?” Unfortunately, because of her the fuse was lit. “Yes, demi you can.” She was about to leave the table when her dad spoke to her. “Sit back down.”

She handed the small bottle to Erica and said kindly, “This pill has another name: Chocolate Beans! It can lower your blood sugar. Want one?” Erica was speechless and politely declined. Not long after, Demi came over. After the fitting, she went straight to the photoshoot area to get the promotional photos done as soon as possible. Erica was busy the entire time, and her mind was reeling. She only recovered a little after filming started in the afternoon. She had heard too much news this morning—about the workshop, and about Ruth. Despite her shock, she was also excited. It was as though they had accepted her into their group.

He approached the window and spoke to Pong, “I need a pot.” “You do? You can use the sandbox in the corner if you need to relieve yourself,” said Pong. “I don’t have to look.” Lankko sighed and he heard Deng laughing aloud with Pong. Lankko could see the tips of the shorter man, Deng, from the window. “I need a clay pot to extract this stone’s magic. Anything you use to cook your food, not that kind of pot that you’re thinking.” Pong looked down at the owner of the head of spiky hair that Lankko could see from the window. Deng argued with Pong as to who should get the pot from the kitchen.