Macaroni Cascade

I tugged a bright yellow box of elbow macaroni from the pantry shelf, determined to finally have my proper lunch instead of dad's sardines. Naturally, the stubborn cardboard flap ripped completely off with an obnoxious tear, sending a shower of dry pasta clattering across the countertop—sigh. I lunged forward to trap them, but my green sock slid on the slick surface and my elbow bumped a vintage powder-blue ramekin. The dish spun in a dizzy circle, scooping up a neat cluster of curved noodles before clinking to a halt. I blew a loose bang out of my eyes and sank against the cupboard, admiring how pretty the golden curves looked against the blue glaze.