1240 words Science Fiction / Feel Good

A grandmother prepares her last gift to her grandson, who is about to take off for distant planets and stars.

Her hand trembled a little as she reached for the flour jar. She told herself to stop being stupid, there was a loaf to be made and very little time in which to make it. She tipped the flour into the bowl and added the fat; her wrinkled fingers began the process of rubbing it in. If Gary were to walk in now, she thought, he’d say, as he always did: “You need a mixer, Gran, one with a dough hook. It’ll do all that hard work for you. Go on, let me bring you Mother’s.” But she’d always made her bread this way and she always told him she was too told to change her ways.

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