More Food-Inspired Writing
Here’s another piece of prose written by a student in Jeff Friedman’s Cooking, Eating, and Dreaming
By Lindsey Pinault
The marks he left were like tread marks in the snow, they slowly vanished with the changing of the seasons, but when they were fresh they were crisp and clear, painfully cold to the touch. Once, we sat beneath the cherry trees, watching the stars twinkle like the fireflies of summer. Back then our love was a pink lady, fresh and sweet, budding from delicate, pure, white petals. But that was before the frost came, rolling over us slowly and dissolving the passion as it does the carnage of fall. Leaving the dead, browned leaves to stick to my hair like the taste of his breath on my lips.