Dough

I laughed as I smothered the counter with flour. Clouds of flour puffed into the air and settled into my hair as I rolled the pin over the the dough. The jelly oozed out of the edges of the criss-crossed pie crusts. My thoughts lost in the soft music playing on the counter and laughter that filled the air mixing with the smell of pies baking in the oven. Baking was an escape. From the clatter and cheer outside the frosted windows.