Two teaspoons of cinnamon. I measure the rust-colored spice and dump it into the bowl. It sits like a tiny brown hill atop the mountain of flour and sugar. Baking has become my therapy these past few weeks. Tipping ingredients into measuring spoons and cups gives my anxious hands something to do other than pulling at my hair.
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by Madison Kanagy | Mar 20, 2025 | Fiction, Literary Fiction


