Deanna’s soup arrived. Everything looked normal. It was hot. Bits of meat bobbed up and down in the yellow broth. There was a full layer of sunken barley on the bottom, like pale river stones. She couldn’t stop herself from breathing deeply and craving the food. She threw her hands over her mouth and leaned backward, nearly falling off the bar stool.
The other patrons turned and scowled in her direction. They were enjoying their soup very much. Giles’ Bubbling Pot had quickly become the number one eatery in town. Even in the middle of this blazing yet rainy bayou summer, folks came from everywhere for a bowl of the turtle soup. It was one of those recipes good enough to pass through generations, and they were lucky enough to taste its first form before reincarnation. Deanna could show a little respect. Continue reading