Waffles Short Story

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It was a Thursday morning. After grumpily dragging myself out of bed, I made my way to the kitchen where my mother was cooking Vietnamese waffles. The rest of the house was dark and docile, it lay silent and seemed to sleep. The kitchen however, was filled with a golden light that seemed to breathe life into the room.The waffles sizzled in the waffle maker, turning the lifeless batter into airy waffles. Pots and pans flew around the kitchen with several clangs. The air was filled with the fragrant smell of sugar and pandan. Just over in the living room, the news was flashing on the T.V. screen. “And the weather today will be…” the weatherman commentated as arrows and clouds danced around on the green-screened map behind him. The waffles were taking centuries to cook. Impatiently, I once again checked on the waffles in the glistening waffle maker. To my dismay, the stubborn waffles were still only bubbling pools of green batter. Exasperated, I decided to start with a glass of milk and eat the waffles later. When I went to grab the jug of milk, an infinite number of cartons of juice and bottles of water dove in front of the container I was trying to retrieve. I was too tired to deal with …show more content…

This was a new, heavy jug of milk, and I couldn’t muster the strength that early in the morning to lift it and pour the milk into a glass. Instead, with the cap unscrewed, I placed the jug on the table, then tilted it so that the lip of the jug rested on the lip of the glass. With the jug at an angle, milk began spilling into the glass. However, like a waterfall in a drought, the stream of milk winded down until it eventually disappeared. The angle the milk jug was at was no longer sharp enough for the milk to spill out. Drowsy, I decided the best course of action would be to set the jug back onto the table, then tip it again. I figured the momentum would cause additional milk to splash into the

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