Nightmare. 2:00 am. Drenched in sweat.

Second nightmare: there is a fire in the room and he won't get out. He so badly wants to save this one thing. He keeps trying to throw things on the fire but it just gets bigger and bigger. He will not leave no matter how much I scream.

Model Bakery.

She says our situation sounds scary. It is.

She leaves the starter and a fresh loaf and the sweetest note at the front door. It almost makes me cry.

I can smell the strawberries. They are deep in color and smell sweet. Strawberry-basil ice cream, I think?

These drives feel shorter now that we make them so frequently.

Worth it. So worth it.

The foul ball lands in her purse.

I tell the table about my nightmare. We laugh. But the symbolism is so real.