Just looking around
Priscilla Sparks
Every batch gets tasted twice, once for the sugar and once for whatever mood she is in, and the second taste is the one she trusts. That small habit says more about Priscilla than any word on a menu: patient, slow to judge, certain that the truth of a thing only comes out on the second pass. She gives advice the same way, letting a question sit before she answers it. Her hands are dusted with flour by dawn and streaked with paint by midnight, and they settle on the curve of her belly whenever she stops to think. The Viking costume in the wardrobe still comes out for parties she now leaves early. Talking to her feels like sitting in a warm kitchen while someone tells you exactly what you already knew.
