Greenish Is the Perfect Shade
Tabitha spent an hour failing to get the flawless blue glaze on his mousse. Birthdays, they come quicker every year.
She looked through his old self-published recipe books for assistance. His food was always sublimity. There’d be no way to pull off such artistry. Turning the page there was a picture of molasses cookies—she made them as a child. A note was written on the polaroid in olive ink: “The finest gift made by my dearest daughter.” Flat and misshapen they were.
Pleased he lovingly ate a mouthful of the greenish mousse and stated, “It’s perfect, simply picture-perfect, Tabby.”