She’d passed on shiurim, begged off friends’ invitations, wrapping herself in the new threads of marriage, tight to choking. There was that part of her that wanted her life to revolve around his. She wanted him to be her sun, to let all the other planets fall out of orbit.,
She’s suddenly so angry the tears pricking her eyes because this is not how it’s supposed to be but somehow it always is. The key turns in the lock just then and he wings in with the breeze
O il. Egg. Flour.
Pour. Crack. Sift.
Salt comes last; don’t kill the yeast.
She scrapes down the flour whipping the spoon around the bowl. Sticky tendrils pull it in slower slower molding the mess into a craggy dough.
She tips the bowl onto the counter dips her hands in flour.
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