A Memory Revisited
Cira — Duskgold, near day's end
The bakery was quiet in the hour before dusk; the kind of golden hush that made even the flour dust seem to settle softly. All but one of the ovens were cooling; there was just enough time for one more project before the day's end. The front shutters were propped open just enough to let in a slant of late light. Outside, the city murmured faintly—wheels, hooves, the occasional cry of a vendor. Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic c
Max and Michael had another picnic in the park today. They both contributed some different foods, this time.
Today's menu:
Paninis with turkey, white cheddar cheese, apple slices and maple-Dijon spread.
Sweet potato barbecue chips.
Pasta salad with butternut squash and sage.
Apple slices with cream cheese and caramel dipping sauce.
Brownies with a Pumpkin Spice Swirl.
Masala Chai Lattes (in a thermos, of course).
There were a few little notes included, same as the first picnic:
"You're the apple of my eye."
"Falling for you all over again."
"These brownies are good, but you're gourd-geous."
I spotted a painted turtle on the meridian of a four-lane road. I stopped to rescue her, which was a bit unnerving, but worth it. Once we were safely in the car, I observed by the markings that she was, indeed, female. And she was quite the pretty little lady, too. Though, she was rather upset by my handling of her. Once we arrived at the supermarket, I released her into the marshland near the parking lot.