There you are! I was wondering if you’d come; but I messed up, I’m really sorry. Can we do this Monday? It’s just that I can’t see you on weekends. My husband is home and he needs things to be just family, you know how it is. Plus my daughter is thirteen years old today, a teenager, eh? Now there’s something to celebrate. I forgot to put the yeast in the cinnamon buns though. Can you believe it? Me of all people - I make them as beautiful as any baker three times a week and when it really matters I forget something as basic as that. They came out like a pre-school cooking project, you know, the ones where the moms eat it and fake a smile for the sake of their little one. They should have been delicious, all that butter and sugar, but they look and taste awful. So I’m not in the best of moods to be honest. Oh, well, I can whip up a batch of macaroons and have them baked in twenty minutes so that’s what it’ll have to be instead. She might prefer them anyway.

I’m sorry, you’re not really here for all that are you? Where are my manners? You aren’t interested in knowing these boring mundane things. We’re off out to lunch at my daughter’s favourite Italian restaurant. I’m so looking forward to it, fresh pasta and creamy sauces. Love it. Oh, I’m side tracking again, I do that a lot. Stop me anytime, I’ve always been a bit of a gabber. You look serious, what’s up?

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 14, 2015.

Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by Daisy.

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A shower cap over the mixing bowl told Emma that there was bread inside. It was how momma kept the dough moist and rising. Soon she was standing tall on ballerina toes, savouring the aroma as she peeked inside, eyes wide and smiling. Perhaps if she asked it could be cinnamon or fruit, after replacing the cap she scampered to begin her crusade of persuasion.