deasil

I watched him as he moved around the kitchen in a frenzy hurry, hands whipping the egg whites in a clockwise direction. After 10 minutes they were beginning to froth into white mounds in hopes of becoming fluffy clouds. "We're making the best macaroons!" he said with pure delight at the notion that this time it would work. This time we would make it.
Last time he fervently kneaded the dough for cookies. It was a year ago when we put the Hershey Kisses into the center of each baby mound. That was the second time he left. This time, this time things are different he told me when I opened the door to let him into my life again. I watched him drop the balls of fluff onto the tray, white and innocent, like hope.
"This is going great. See how perfect they are?"
"Yeah," I mumbled, half-smiling at him, half-looking at the mixing bowl in the sink. Bubbles and water residue from a quick rinse. I glanced back at him as he pushed the tray into the oven knowing tomorrow he wouldn't be there to enjoy them.