One day I was an hour late to greet T home from work. As I crossed the landing laden with roughly a kilo of fresh-picked raspberries, he flashed me an irritatingly knowing smirk.
“It wasn’t exactly a mystery, y’know—my hiking boots were gone.” It was a rare treat to befriend someone with my shoe size.
We made raspberry-filled phyllo cups that night. Raspberry-STUFFED, more accurately.