in a land far away…

Somewhere by the river, there’s a house made of love. It sprang up like a little mushroom, and now it blinks its cobweb-light curtains in a gentle draft. There’s cobweb in the corner there, too, with one tiny little friend sleeping in the middle.

And while the web is woven here and there, a spoke and a circle, a braid is made around and around, strand by strand. And brushing her hair from her forehead, she mixes the batter.

The bell tolls once on the tower, and it’s half past the perfect time for coffee. The flour goes quickly from the bag to the table, onto her sweater, down to the floor, and is caught in the breeze’s meticulously rehearsed dance. Round and around, in a circle it goes, and soon, out the window.

On the table, her favorite mug she used to measure, so the coffee won’t taste as good as ever.

Tea, perhaps?

But no, it already went into the cake. Tiny flakes of Earl Grey follow the spiral of the whisk.

The oven is beeping (she set it to preheat), but what a confusion! The temperature is too high! Quickly, set it lower! Now, let’s open the oven and check the damage.

Oh, but now look at this hot cloud rising to the ceiling! It even climbed the chimney!

But the music plays, old Magazin songs, so it’s hard to frown when you can dance instead. The socks slip on the floor, but no matter. It’s Sunday, and the sun is up.

THE END.

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