Flying Onions and Dripping Sweat

I didn’t know that cooking side by side with my husband is sweeter than cuddles and kisses.

The Captain was craving for pasta one night but my arms were too sore from carrying half a dozen bags of groceries from the supermarket across the street all the way home.

I made him a deal: I’ll cook him his pasta if he chops the onions. And he did. For half an hour, flying onions attacked my kitchen. I had fun watching him. He got carried away and chopped the tomatoes too.

He made my job so much easier.

”This is so far the best pasta you made,” he said.

It’s because I had no sweat dripping whilst making it, I said.


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