Page 142 - Anonymous

She smiles and rolls up her sleeves.

Walking to the cupboard, she puts on one

of my aprons, which I fail time and time

again to use. The one she dons has the

words Kiss the cook on it, and I walk

over and peck her cheek. “Good to see

you, darling.”

She laughs and gets to work. “So,

we have to be at the bake sale at one,

yeah?”