Fifth year

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Fifth year of my life

"Anna?" My mom asked.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

"Really? It does not look like it."

"I was just trying to bake."

"What?"

"I was trying to bake."

"What are you baking then?"

"Cakes."

"For who?"

"Me."

"...and?"

"Me."

"...and?"

"No one else," I statted firmly.

"What about Shawn?"

"He can bake his own cakes?"

"You have to share."

"I will give him one."

"Only one?"

"Yes. I bake. I eat."

"Well I think you need help."

"No."

"You got everything under control."

"The oven is on 410°F."

"It should not be on such a high heat."

"Why? They the will be done quick."

"No. They will burn."

"You will help?"

"Sure."

Beginning - Shawn MendesWhere stories live. Discover now