First, set out your mise en place.
Choose your dish, the ceramic one in bamboo green. Good.
Now take a glut of apples, also green, and skin them. Crisp flesh, tart, fresh— good.
Cinnamon, ginger, the crippling shame of every social fucking interaction you've ever had. Good.
Spoon in filling. Really pack it in there.
Flour, butter, sugar. Just meet their eyes; smile when they smile. Roll dough out thin.
Slice into strips, interlace. Play the audio of your ex walking out.
Why is it so fucking hard?
Play it on loop.
Why are you like this?
Bake until golden.
Véro lives by the sea with her very attentive cat. She gravitates towards short stories & poetry, but enjoys experimenting across different creative mediums.
Véro likes to write “stuff that makes you feel things,” and is a keen explorer in the vast landscape of human emotion.
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