“When it is in the oven, he cups her face with floury hands, leaves trails everywhere he touches. 
They make a mess, as the room fills with the scent of freshly baking bread. And in the morning it looks like ghosts have danced across the kitchen, and they pretend there were two instead of one.” 💔
    
    
      — Mar 14, 2024 09:53PM
    
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