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Babba's Kitchen

The smell of flour and exotic herbs assailed Rem’s nose and mind. He shut his eyes, intent on the feel of the place. Mouth moving silently, his own breath felt hot on his lips. As the incantation completed a cool breeze wafted in, lifting his shirt and tickling up his back.

The sound of tinkling bells preceded a melodious voice, “Welcome to the kitchen. I am the…” She paused, let out a short giggle, and cooed, “Oh, Remmy, lovely to see you again!”

Rem let his eyes open slowly. Babba hung in the air before him, a ghostly plume of white all about her. Her silvery translucent face beamed back at him. She bounced in place, arms swaying here and there. He couldn’t help but laugh at a soul so old acting giddy as a school girl.

“What shall we make today, Babba?”

“Hold out your tongue,” she ordered sweetly. He did so, and when she touched it with her intangible finger he tasted meat, savory and wild, with a hint of minerals and a touch of something floral.

It was going to be a good night in Babba’s Kitchen.

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