I can't cook. Or bake. Whatever.
The kitchen smells like a horrible blend of vinegar, sweaty cheese, baked apples and goats by the time I'm finished.
I try to throw the charred mess away but it sticks to the pan.
I throw the whole pan away. It's not like I'll use it.
I can't cook. She knew that.
YOU ARE READING
Entropy
Short StoryA story about love, despair, and chaos, told in fragments. Her screams echoed inside the glass coffin. I heard them. She scratched her fingernails bloody on the hard case that kept her inside. I felt the blood trickle down my own hands. She pounded...
