Pancakes

It was every so often that late in the night Kevan and I would find ourselves still awake. Sometimes you simply cannot sleep, especially if that is what you wish for most in the world. The Station tends to be a little bit of a restless animal some might say. I felt my stomach grumble its bubbly moan and decided to creep out quietly to the kitchen to find something to munch on. I have a horrible weakness for midnight picnics. My bare feet shuffled across the cold cement floor as I made my way over to the fridge and peered inside.
"Care for a walk?" I heard beside me. I cautiously peeked one eye over the refrigerator door and then the other to fully view Kevan already wrapped up tightly in his dark wool overcoat. I shrugged and crammed the remainder of my leftover pancake in my mouth.
"How was that pancake?" Kevan smirked as we slid into the cool night air.
"Alright. There was a bit too much cake, not enough pan." I replied nonchalantly. Kevan chuckled softly in reply. The stars hung in the dark sky as tiny bits of mirror speckled across a dark secret corner. We breathed in the frosty air and walked slowly along, each lost in a world of different thoughts.
"Do you ever worry that you'll meet someone in a book and the more you read, the more you prefer their company to the real world? I know stories tend to end so suddenly, but you can keep them alive just by writing them new ones can't you? I get worried sometimes. That that will happen to me." I burst out suddenly. Kevan paused for a moment and looked out at the sea. He squinted his eyes and wiggled his nose to push his glasses back up on his face, as he so often does.
"Hannah, I wonder that almost as often as you do. I am more easily enticed by a character who is already fabricated to be charming and likeable for all their quirks and differences. I feel that if I look too hard I can fall right in. That is how the greats all did it. I'm convinced. They just fell right in. The characters simply become people and we play narrator to however they choose to live their lives."
"Do you think we're interesting enough to be someone's characters? I did just put an entire pancake in my mouth." I giggled.
"How could we not be? Two people who own an abandoned train station for the sole purpose of cultivating creative freedoms? I'd say we're at least worth a newspaper article or something." Kevan replied while flinging his arms in the air.
"A blog maybe?" I suggested.
"I'd settle for a blog." He replied. Suddenly we'd arrived back at our doorstep again. So we said goodnight and I headed off to bed. My eyelids grew heavy and as I smiled to myself, well I suppose I just decided that it was alright to lean in a little bit. How else could we go on all those impossible adventures?