Baking

SUGAR and flour dusting apron and countertop alike, the
ELDER baker and her sous-chef granddaughter finished the cupcakes, having
KNEED the oven door the rest of the way closed. From the kitchen
AROSE the aroma of love and memories.

A Blow

WOUND came as blow to the shoulder, an alien momentum; he
SWORE, was spun off path into jungle’s thicket. Stumble becomes
ASSET. More shots ring out, he now hidden from view. He looks up:
MANGO, red, lush, hanging from branch above. Then sees blood blossom on his shirt.