Dear V. J. White,
We are pleased to extend you an offer for an internship position at our Food and Lifestyle Department. The position is scheduled to begin on the 20th of October, Monday. You will be reporting to James Winscott, sub-editor of the restaurant review column, and Ruth Watson, senior editor of food journalism. We anticipate that your appointment will continue at least through the 31st of December, contingent upon your training progress, program needs, and satisfactory performance.
We look forward to furthering your journey as a writer and food critic, as well as providing you with various opportunities to experience the culinary world in many special ways. Please find attached the instructions to set up a work email and key materials for your first day at work. Should you require any further assistance regarding the offer and position, please contact our Recruiting Department at 010 13092883.
Regards,
The New York Times
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Rain in the fall is spicy as they say; simmering with a scent of cinnamon, warm and muted as the thunder above. There was a sharpness in his nose, the imminence of a chill thankfully soothed by the dull fragrance of his muffler. Chamomile. Dead, crisp leaves turned a chilly wetness under grey skies and stick to the bottom of his loafers as he passed a bare tree, walking down the sidewalk and making his way to the grocery store for some precious time spent with his godfather.
The plan was to shop for some ingredients. Just enough for a small, humble evening dinner party. One that would satisfy warm tummies and leave a smile on their faces for the rest of the night but really, hardly anything made by Chip Honeycutt wasn't of such nature and this was no surprise to Vanilla, especially when it came to occasions like these.
He spotted his godfather waiting outside the grocery store with a basket in hand, gaze fixed on the row of shopping carts right beside him as though unsure of which to pick. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind, honeyed rays of sunshine reduced to a messy fluff.
"Nillie!" He called out as soon as their eyes met, waving on tiptoes as though the former action alone wasn't enough to catch the attention of most people. Fortunately, Vanilla found himself blessed with a substantial vantage point. At present, he was nearly a head taller than his godfather.
They greeted each other with a hug before mutually agreeing on the shopping cart, heading into the store and escaping from the rain. Chip pulled out a list, handwritten and traditional with boxes on the side; a product of parenting and typical baker's habit combined.
"So um! Your uncle said he'd leave tonight's menu completely up to us. Wh-which is a first, isn't it? He's always been especially strict on your diet." They proceeded down the vegetable aisle, hunting for roots and leaves like a bunny and a deer. "Oh! Oh these parsnips look yummy. Should we do something like a vegetable roast? I had that on the list but it's always best to consult the birthday boy. Hehe."
Vanilla had given the slip of paper a glimpse and, within seconds, known exactly what Chip was planning just from the ingredients he'd listed down. Needless to say, he had no objections to raise. Partly because he'd never really had to heart to reject anything suggested by his godfather primarily due to the fact that he'd never really thought about his own birthday dinner menu.
YOU ARE READING
Wax
Romance[Sequel to Vanilla] Seven years later, childhood sweethearts Vanilla Julian White and Leroy Cox reunite in the City of London for an unlikely reason. The latter-once a burning flame unfazed by the wind-had, since a couple of years ago, left the heat...
