Sunflower Seeds

A snippet written in my second year of university that I forgot about until I was going through some files, about a moment in our then-apartment that I liked.

Danielle and Yolanda loafed by the kitchen island, casually plucking the caramelized sunflower seeds off of the sheet of aluminum foil on the baking tray.

“What are these?” Yolanda asked, chewing curiously. She had missed the roommate Thanksgiving dinner the night before, when Danielle had unearthed a plastic container of sunflower seeds from the recesses of the kitchen cupboards. With the dinner menu lacking in appetizers and sweet things, Danielle decided to drizzle maple syrup over the seeds and bake them.

“They’re from last night,” Danielle said, picking up a few more and popping them in her mouth. “We were going to put them in salad, but we forgot.”

“They’re so good,” Yolanda said, eating more. “Crunchy. Nutty.”

“Yeah. I guess we could mix them up with some sweet potatoes–”

“Mm…”

“Or make another salad. Toss them in with some avocados.” Her voice rose and trailed off in contemplation.

“You know what’d be really good? If we put them in ice cream.”

Danielle made a sound of approval. “They’d be like pralines,” she said.

“They should definitely go with something sweet,” Yolanda said, plucking away some more. “Like a pastry.”

“We can put them in crepes.”

“Good idea. Anyway, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

Yolanda shrugged on her jacket as Danielle stepped into her shoes. Waving goodbye to us, they descended down the turn of the stairs.

The empty baking tray laid on the kitchen counter. Its wrinkled aluminum lining was stained with the caramelized traces of the sunflower seeds, eaten as they were.

Our Henri-Julien apartment when we were second-year university students (2017).