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timothée june 26
rosie opens a narrow cupboard that's beside the fridge and pulls out a large book, the kind that looks like it belongs in a fairytale. it's thick with sticky notes and tags poking out from different pages. she notices my curious eyes and she smiles.
"this was my great great grandmother's recipe book." she explains, running her hand over the cover. it looks worn down and the color had faded. she flips through it until she lands on one awfully yellow page. it's got words scribbled in cursive all over it. "my mom told me it's been passed on to the women in the family for ages. she said that i'm next in line to have it."
i come closer to her side and peer down at the book in her hands. "what kind of recipes does she have?"
"literally everything you can think of." she runs her finger down the list. "this cookie recipe is so good. it's got just the right amount of warmth and gooey-ness."
my stomach rumbles at the thought and i'm starting to become hungrier by the second. it's been a while since the last time i've had chocolate chip cookies. and i have to admit, it's nice to do things again that i'd once done as a kid.
"mmm," i smile. "that sounds really good."
rosie nods. "yes it does...it says that we need all purpose flour, baking soda and powder, butter, brown and white sugar...."
as she continues to list the many ingredients, i stare at her face and the words leaving her mouth begin to fade away. i'm far too mesmerized by her lips. they look so plump and soft, just the perfect amount of pink tint to them. i'm holding back the urge to reach out and grab her face, wondering if they taste as good as they look.
"timothée?" she waves her hand in front of my face. "hellooo?" the words drag out at the end and it finally catches my attention.
embarrassed, i shake my head and scratch the side of my head. "uh, sorry. i zoned out."
"i can tell." she laughs. "i was trying to say that we should preheat the oven while we get everything mixed together."
"oh yeah, for sure." i step over to the surprisingly spotless and clean oven. her mom must've cleaned before they left. "what temperature?"
rosie skims over the words quickly and says aloud, "375."
i twist the dial to the left until it's perfectly aligned with the correct number. i turn back around and notice that she's already grabbed a bowl and two cookie sheets. rosie seems focused as she digs a measuring cup into the large bag of flour. she repeats this two more times, each time leaving a little trail of white between the bowl and the bag.
i look at the book and read that she needs some salt and baking soda and baking powder so i slide them closer to her. rosie glances up and smiles. "thank you."
