Lake Lewisia #802

[scrubjayspeaks]

"I had a dream once," she told the chef, even as his hands kept spiraling out frosting across a lineup of small cakes, "about a cloud that had been baked into a pie shell, and it rained when you bit into it, and I just wondered if you can make something like that." He had opened the truck service window, even though it wasn't opening time yet, because of how fine the morning looked, and it had enticed in a stray student clearly playing hookey. He started describing the possibilities of choux pastry and blueberry reduction, and if she looked oddly disappointed by the direction of his vision, she didn't look any less hungry to taste the potential result.

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LL#802