Burnt Sugar
The smoke alarm went off at 11:47pm on a Tuesday, which meant two things: Mia Torres had burned the madeleines for the third time that week, and she was going to have to bake again tomorrow because the problem was not the oven — it was her. She stood in her kitchen in DUMBO, a space that was mostly counter and barely any storage, and stared at the smoking tray like it had personally insulted...
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