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Quote by Mia P. Manansala

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Murder and Mamon

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Mia P. Manansala

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“And so the milk ran dry. But first we had the luck of those creams, those spilled-down sauces, that summer of appetite that began with a soufflé cheesecake. There are very few ingredients to the recipe. Butter doesn't make the cake, nor cream. Its secret is ephemerality. Pull it from the oven and it is perfect; the next moment it is cooling, flattening, collapsing beneath the gravity of time. This is a flavor untasted by diners and critics, no record of its existence but for a private memory that lingers on one or two tongues.”

“I could get used to this, coming home to a hot meal." His teasing made me put up an attitude as a defense, which only spurred on his amusement. Hot as he may be, he was also a fucking bastard. Taking the spatula, I cut a sliver of hot meat off and he caught it, popping it into his mouth. "You would be able to catch that," I muttered, my mouth trying not to jerk up into a smile as I turned my attention back to the pan.”

“As years slip by, life's changes leave a scar, Friends fade away, like distant, fading stars. Strangers draw near, but ghosts of the past persist, Invest in hope, as dreams slip through your fist. Discovering fragments lost, a bittersweet quest, Closer to the 'you,' though tears fill your chest. You've every right to outgrow, but it still stings, No need to apologize for the loss to me it brings. In the twilight years, we navigate the pain, The road now different, forever changed terrain. Embrace the shifts, for melancholy does reside, In life's somber, ever-turning, receding tide.”