Love, Paris | ✔️

Chapter 16

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Dave Samuels,

I am almost coming home. Though I do not feel so good about. I am getting attached here in the place I am staying, Timbuktu, as well as to the people I met here.

Do not worry, I will be back since I miss my family so much.

I kinda know that my friend, Marco, knows you. Might I ask him about you?

Random question: if I will ever plan for eloping with someone, will the wedding be cancelled or will you search for me?

No need to answer the question.

Love,
Paris

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If there is one hobby that Paris has been neglecting and of course not performed all the time, it would be cooking.

But would you call it a hobby if she rarely did it?

Paris, at the very least, was proud of her cooking skills. She could cook but she's just lazy to do it. Unless, bribed by a bigger ransom. She learned it when her grandmother offered to teach her. You know why she could not say no. Her grandmother played her cards very well.

The countdown on her stay in Paris has already started. She only has less than a week left. Isaiah and her have nowhere left to go. They were only waiting for the final day of the Bastille Festival and the fireworks as well.

Right now, Paris woke up early and went to the groceries to buy the ingredients of the recipe she has to cook. Isaiah did not know about it because he was sleeping and she hated waking him up. He might become Mr. Grouchy if he would be waken up in no time.

Thankfully, it wasn't hard searching for the ingredients Paris would bake. It made her task easy and she just bought in only in a couple of minutes.

One thing she liked and would definitely miss in this apartment is the completeness of the tools and equipments. You could not conclude and believe at once that the flat is owned by two men. Its neatness and orderliness made it quite difficult to decipher that girls weren't the one who owned it. Anyone would probably think that they are nancies.

Paris was almost done in her recipe and she was now preheating the oven for her to start baking.

"Morning, pumpkin." A happy and jolly Isaiah greeted her.

It was really unusual for Isaiah to greet her in a jolly way every morning. Usually he would be grumpy or just silent whenever he makes his coffee.

"You're weird." Paris bluntly said to him not even replying to his greeting.

Isaiah snorted at her and he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. He did not bother to speak up and just proceeded to prepare his coffee.

"What are you up to?" he asked her, taking a chair to sit.

"What do you see?" Paris asked him back as she continued placing tiny balls on the try.

Isaiah leaned in forward, grazed his finger on the side of the mixing bowl, and tasted it. "I know you are obviously cooking. What I meant is why are you making?"

"Cookies. Red velvet, as you can see," she answered him.

Isaiah nodded at her yet he still continued grazing his finger and tasting the cookie dough.

There is no time to get distracted. Cooking, especially baking, needs full attention in order to produce the best quality of pastries. Accurate and precise. That is what baking needs.