Flour hung in the kitchen like morning fog, settling on the sacks, the counters and the tip of Loccy's nose. She shaped the last of the frosting with both thumbs, her tongue poking out as the cake grew a face.
Three trays of rolls cooled on the sill while the sun still hid behind the capital's rooftops.
Elise shuffled in with a coat thrown over her nightgown, squinting at the table, "It looks like a distressed potato."
"He's handsome!" Loccy said, hugging the frosting bag to her chest like a baby.
"The left cheek is sliding off, I'm only saying what I see."
"That's his dimple, it just looks like sliding when you're half asleep," she said, nudging the cake straight.
Elise rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, "How long have you been standing here?"
"Since three, the cake needed a long time to turn into him," Loccy said, brushing flour off her ears.
"You gave him licorice eyebrows."
