I loved to bake. I thought it was amazing how just sugar, milk and flour could make a cake.
Dad was my role model. He could bake a lot. And not even just bake, he was a great chef too.
The fire alarm went off. It was something who often happened in our house lately.
I picked up the burned muffins from the oven and waited for dad to turn off the fire alarm.
The whole kitchen smelled burned muffin now.
Great.
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But just half an hour later, I had made some not-burned muffins.
And dad had made a delicious lime pie.
Honestly, I was jealous of his baking skills.
Me and my sister had opened our own little business. We sold the stuff I baked in my little oven.
My sister was the seller and I was the baker. Even the first days, we got a lot of customers.
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But it wasn't long before my sister started high school, and then she didn't want to work with me anymore.
My parents even built her a whole new room. Or maybe I should say house.
But with our amount of money, we couldn't afford more than just a bed in her room.
But me myself, still slept in my parents room.
And I kept running our old little baking business.
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Years passed by. At the end, I didn't want to sleep in my parents room anymore, so I moved into Sheila's little house. But we built a wall through the room, for some privacy.
Even though I closed our business, I kept on making food.
But I didn't just bake anymore, I cooked too.
And at last, it was time for prom.
That was even the night, when something else happened.
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