I’m pretty sure I remember how she made it. I certainly watched her do it enough.“And thinking about her cooking reminds me, yet again, of her bis...uits. I doubt that I’ll ever have the perfect ingredients to make any as good as hers, but I’m gonna have some flour soon – I hope. Of course, one thing going for me is that I haven’t tasted her biscuits in so long that I won’t have their taste firmly in mind when I taste mine. Then again, that sounds like I’ve already given up. Fuck it. I’m going to. I take her hands in mine. They're soft, yet strong."Shall I invite you someplace for lunch ?" My dear french gentleman, it'll be my pleasure to make you discover my hang outs in Copenhagen".Some time later, we're in some hype cantina, sharing beers while waiting for our turn to sit. We've spoken of us: who we are, what we do, what we like. The words flow nicely, in an engrossing conversation, with some laughs put over."You know, Ian, I think I've not always fell for the right man, but you're. More

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