A Recipe in the Shadows

You asked if I wanted to bake a cake, so I-I finally worked up the nerve to creep into the kitchen. What if something dropped on my head? But I made it behind the trash can to the lowest cupboard, peeking through a tiny crack. Right there on the tile was a dropped box of baking soda with bold, bright stripes along the rim. It felt safe squeezed against the dark cabinet wall. I dragged a fallen wooden toothpick over and practiced measuring imaginary flour lines in the dust, keeping an eye out just in case anyone tried to ambush me.