“I wouldn’t be troubling myself—not when I like your cooking so much.” The owner beamed, flushing, and looked to where I’d half twisted in my seat to watch her. “Is it to your liking?” The happiness on her face, the satisfaction that only a day of hard work doing something you love could bring, hit me like a stone. I—I remembered feeling that way. After painting from morning until night. Once, that was all I had wanted for myself. I looked to the dishes, then back at her, and said, “I’ve lived in the mortal realm, and lived in other courts, but I’ve never had food like this. Food that makes me
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