Desserts

Rain had been ticking at the window since before I woke up.One of those gray-wool days that doesn’t announce itself, just… sits heavy. The kind …

The crust was already made.Store-bought. Slightly cracked on one side like it had something to say about me.The fridge was humming too loud and I …

It started with the smell. not the cookies. not the dough.Just the smell of the lemon, right after I zested it. The way it clung …

The sugar clumped in my elbow crease.I wasn’t wearing sleeves. The windows were open, and the salt wind came in sideways, not soft, not sweet—like …

The zester slipped.just a little.enough to drag the skin of my thumb and pull me back to that smell.lemons.sugar.a cake that caved in so fast …

The apples were going soft. the fridge made that groaning noise again—the one that always sounds like it’s trying to tell me something. it was …

It started with burnt toast and a voicemail I didn’t want to hear.Not tragic. Just… worn.The kind of day that smells like old socks and …

The bowl was cold. Not fridge-cold—just… untouched. I hadn’t planned to make anything. The rain was doing that sideways thing it does here when the …

The oven was already on. I wasn’t thinking shortcake. I wasn’t thinking much of anything. Just standing barefoot in the kitchen with one sock on …

It wasn’t hot enough for cake that day.Cloudy, like the sky couldn’t commit. The kind of weather that doesn’t tell you what to wear, so …