𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇 | 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

❤︎ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ❤︎

" 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 ... 𝐈𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞; 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. "
- 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞,
{𝐖𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬}



⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅୨୧⑅

✽ Jisung's POV, 04:52 ✽

I swept the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, cluelessly painting my face with flour.

I presumed firmly kneading the sourdough starter with my ingredient-coated digits. Continuous folding and flipping cursed my body to tire as I trudged through the ache in my shoulders and forearms.

An obnoxious alarm sounded through the silent restaurant kitchen. Seeking the source of the rattle, my eyes landed upon a recently expired timer

Pressing the 'pause' button on the chef's watch, I gathered the ball of sourdough and steadily plopped it into a large glass jar.

Draping a red and white flannel dish towel over the outlet, I meticulously placed the vessel in the windowsill beside the fully fermented jar that has been patiently anticipating it's usage for a couple weeks now.

Pausing to admire the sunrise of the mid-spring dawn, a light sprinkle of rain coating the atmosphere with the adorning glisten on the surrounding shops. Doubtlessly falling victim to the sight, I stood mesmerized by the droplets of due discharging in beads off of flowers, the variety of puddle diameter and depth embellishing the barren early morning street, any and everything rain-tainted catching my gleaming eye.

Emotion, similar to those of the clouds, soon cascaded down my cheeks - composing my very own, personal downpour. A sniffle catching my ear as I wiped the drizzle from beneath my nasal cavity, sneezing as I inhaled flour from my hand through my nose. I erupted into a miniature fit of giggles, escaping the slight derail that caused me to soar off track.

Rain always found a way to enhance my mood. No matter the dreary and gloom commonly associated with the precipitation, it consistently amended and bettered my personal behaviors and mentality.

As my brain unclouded post-reverie, an unexpected chirpy 'ding' shattered the silence as it reverberated throughout the numerous appliances and rung in my ears.

Pivoting on my heels, I analyzed the kitchen for the origin of the petite alert. Eyes settling on the luxury Espresso machine with a full demitasse cup begging to be consumed.

An ear-to-ear smile pursuing my face, I happily skipped toward the miniature mug as the delectable fragrance wafted in my direction, enchanting my nose with the freshly brewed Brazilian-Guatemalan blend.

Engulfing it in my small hands, I sifted through an overhead cabinet with the strong beverage in one hand.

Selecting my desired mug, I placed the handmade ceramic onto the counter. Pouring the Espresso into the coffee cup, I precisely measured out three hundred forty grams of lukewarm water from the distiller on standby and led it to the same fate of the roast; in the intricately decorated porcelain.