- What are you making? - She asks.
- Pancakes... - I say back to her, prolonging one of the "a" sounds in "pancakes."
She stands up. Comes to me and looks in the pan. - These look different. - She states, a puzzling notch in her voice as she says it.
- These are American pancakes, small and thick.
She goes back to table and sits down. I flip a pancakes. It's too hot near the pan.
- Have you made like these before?
- Pancakes... - I say back to her, prolonging one of the "a" sounds in "pancakes."
She stands up. Comes to me and looks in the pan. - These look different. - She states, a puzzling notch in her voice as she says it.
- These are American pancakes, small and thick.
She goes back to table and sits down. I flip a pancakes. It's too hot near the pan.
- Have you made like these before?
I pour more mix.
- Once. A long time ago. For someone special. But I made the pancakes special too.
I deliver another pancake.
- I'll show you.
2 minutes later I present a pancake in the shape of a heart. I take fork. Separate it in the middle.
-This is my part. - I say pointing to one of the halves.
I begin to chop it up with the fork. I stop when it looks like a jumbled mess.
- There, the perfect metaphor.
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