By Dylan Benjamin
Marcus sat at the kitchen table while Jules checked the oven.
Her back hurt as she bent down and inhaled the sweet, warm scent of the cake through the gap between the oven door. It smelled good, but that was the only good thing about it. Baking a cake is easy—eating it, isn’t always.
When it was ready and set, she cut a slice and placed it in front of Marcus. His wrinkled face looked confused at her presence.
“Remember me?” Jules asked.
He shook his head, took a bite, then spat it out.
“I remember,” he said.
She smiled.
Tastes and smells, a wonderful way to nudge the memory.
I really like how you wrote this piece. It took me on several journeys; past, present and future.
I enjoyed reading this. Perhaps the sense of humour is the last thing to go.