Chapter 53

• NOVEMBER
• The kitchen is dimly lit when I walk in. I leave it like that. I don’t need much. The ingredients are muscle memory. Flour. Butter. Cinnamon. Sugar. Eggs. I move carefully, methodically. I don’t put on music. I don’t want the distraction. My chest already feels tight.
• I knead. Mix. Wait. I pop them in the oven.The smell fills the kitchen slowly. Sweet and warm. Hug-like. But not to me. I'm doing well, I'm surprised.