perfect recipe (2)

He scrolled through his contacts until he found Grandma Lucille. His thumb hovered over the call button. He hadn’t called her in a while—not because he didn’t love her, but because life had a way of filling up with distractions. Work at the bistro, a couple of failed attempts at dating, and now this obsessive quest to recreate her marinara. He pressed the button.

“Damien!” Grandma Lucille’s voice came through the speaker, warm and familiar. “To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?” “Hi, Grandma. I was just, uh, thinking about you,” he started.“Thinking about me, huh? That usually means you want something,” she teased.

Damien chuckled. “Okay, you got me. I’ve been trying to make your marinara sauce, and it’s just not right. I don’t know what I’m missing. Can you remind me of the recipe?”