Weekly Writing Challenge: A Pinch of You

Prompt from here.

The Hedonistic Wanderers’ Snack

Main ingredients:

  • 100 gr of hedonism
  • 200 gr of globe trekking
  • 100 gr of mixed art powder, ratio design:music = 4:3
  • 250 cc of architecture, pick the one fermented for 4 years
  • 500 cc of all-girl military Catholic school, pick the strictest one
  • 3 tsp of perseverance
  • 2 drops of whim
  • 2 sheets of pride
  • 150 cc of Chardonnay
  • 300 cc of feels, extracted from BBC Sherlock feels.

Decoration ingredients:

  • 1 bottle of hair dye: mahogany colour
  • 1 bottle of nail polish: glittery black

How to make:

  1. Prepare a huge mixing bowl.
  2. Brush the inside with perseverance and whim so it won’t stick.
  3. Add in all-girl Catholic school, architecture, and mixed art powder.
  4. Stir slowly while adding hedonism and globe trekking.
  5. Let it rest until the dough rises.
  6. Cover dough with pride and put it in the blast chiller for about 3 minutes.
  7. Take out the dough after it’s tough, and cut into 4×4 cm cubes.
  8. Heat the feels in a frying pan.
  9. Quick-fry the cubes, use the Chardonnay to flambee until they sparkle like sugar cubes.
  10. Decorate the plate with hair dye and nail polish.
  11. Plate the cubes nicely on top of the mix.
  12. Serve while warm.

Warning.
The cubes are alive, so heed these following warnings:

  • Do not leave unattended for more than 2 minutes.
    They will wander around unstoppably.
  • Do not expose to empty surface and any kind of writing tools.
    You will have the surface filled with artsy sketches you can’t clean.
  • Do not expose to caffeine, alcohol, and/or any kind of good food.
    They get addicted very easily.
  • Do not put near fangirling materials.
    They WILL fangirl.
    And your arguments WILL be invalid.

You have been warned.

Daily Prompt: Far from Home

Prompt from here.

The same old caramel latte steamed on the low table where the same young girl sits in every morning. Her eyes hadn’t left the windows she had been staring at for the last few minutes, probably witnessing the snowflakes turning into another heavy rain. ‘Maybe homesick,’ guessed the barista while the waiter glanced at her.

True, she lived out of a suitcase, but the reason she had been staring out the window was the man in blue blazer standing right across the street. She watched him, humoured as he tried and failed to open his umbrella due to the wind – in the end waiting for the traffic light to turn red and ran towards the cafe.

The wind blew as the door opened, revealing a clearer sight of the soaking man and his malfunctioning umbrella. The corner of her lips tugged up, unable to hold back the smile now decorating her face.

‘Horrible weather,’ she commented.

He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced her way as if saying “You think?”. The door closes behind him and he stayed for a moment at the entrance; standing on the mat while reading the menu on the blackboard behind the bar at the same time to avoid flooding the floor.

The girl didn’t take her eyes off of the man.
That was how the barista knew that his guess wasn’t completely wrong.

She was far from home – that was where he was right.
But she had no drop of homesick blood running in her vein.
And the reason of it just walked up to order the same caramel latte to him.