Don't Know

When one couldn't sleep, there was something they had to do. Lina told herself as she pulled out the second batch of her newly experimented lemon-raspberry streusel muffins. It was perfectly domed, moist, and tender. She nodded with approval as she took a sip from her second cup of coffee.

Trailing her eyes across the kitchen, every inch of it was blanketed with a collection of pastries. The cruffins were cooling over the small kitchen table, the chaussons aux pommes laid in a tray just by the stove.

With a sigh, she wondered what she was going to do with them. The idea of baking so late in the night had started on impulse. Or habit, she'd say correctly.

She had picked up the habit after relocating to Pamilton. It had been a preferable method of grief and sorting her thoughts. But despite the exhausting amount of baking she had done, her mind was still in shambles. Thoughts of Pete lingering and flooding.