Little if any sizzling. Pulling away from the pan.
A toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
She turned it upside down on a wire cooling rack then righted it on another.
That brief time left an impression.
The crisscross pattern reminded her of her mother.
Dead at forty-two.
Jennifer M. Smith was taught the family baking secrets at an early age. She never met her maternal grandmother.
He couldn’t hear his wife because of his headphones. Just the way he wanted it. He nodded; pretended he could hear; looked contrite, apologetic, regretful…
She smiled, mouthed “Thank you,” and left to run errands. He had escaped the encounter unchastised.
Thirty minutes later, he smelled his birthday cake burning.
This story was based on the prompt “headphones” at TypeTrigger.
“What are you making today, Geraldo?”
“My friend, I have many creations! Witness my self-baking bread, and these gingerbread men dance and sing! Marvelous, no?”
“Truly, but all I wish for are some buns to eat with my soup.”
“How sad,” said Geraldo, “that we live in such a world.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @Zutzy.