Anna got up at 8 am to catch up and walk a few blocks to the house. An elderly woman lived there. Every Sunday morning the old lady baked cinnamon rolls. The smell of fresh baking from her kitchen was heard for a whole block. Once, on the way to the post office, where Anna's parcel came by mistake, the girl passed by the house of the old woman and heard that smell. She stopped, closed her eyes and enjoyed the scent. It was a fresh dough, sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar, poured with vanilla sauce. Anna imagined a baking tray with homemade buns, neat rows of ruddy curls under a creamy white sauce. She literally felt the taste of buns. Suddenly a tear ran down her cheek. The girl remembered her grandmother, who baked cinnamon rolls. Anna liked to come to her grandmother for a vacation, go out with her around the city, go to the park, listen to her stories and help around the house. A few years ago her grandmother passed away, and Anna missed her very much. Next Sunday the girl passed the house by some business again and heard the familiar scent. Since then she came to the house every Sunday, sat on a bench near the playground, listened to the smell of buns and remembered her grandmother. But one day there was no smell. Anna got courage and went to the window — there was nobody in the kitchen. Then she returned to the playground, sat down on the bench and cried. The girl thought that something had happened to the old lady, and she was afraid to imagine the most terrible thing. Suddenly she felt that someone had come to a bench and was standing next to her. She looked up and saw that woman. The old lady smiled sweetly. She held a small basket with rolls and a glass of milk in her hands. An elderly woman asked if she could sit beside Anna, and the girl nodded “yes”. They started talking about buns, then the woman admitted that she had noticed Anna long ago, and Anna told her about grandmother. So they met and became friends. And all because of the fragrant cinnamon rolls.
17 Apr 2018
Cinnamon Rolls by Zakhar Manukhov
Every Sunday for three months,
Anna got up at 8 am to catch up and walk a few blocks to the house. An elderly woman lived there. Every Sunday morning the old lady baked cinnamon rolls. The smell of fresh baking from her kitchen was heard for a whole block. Once, on the way to the post office, where Anna's parcel came by mistake, the girl passed by the house of the old woman and heard that smell. She stopped, closed her eyes and enjoyed the scent. It was a fresh dough, sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar, poured with vanilla sauce. Anna imagined a baking tray with homemade buns, neat rows of ruddy curls under a creamy white sauce. She literally felt the taste of buns. Suddenly a tear ran down her cheek. The girl remembered her grandmother, who baked cinnamon rolls. Anna liked to come to her grandmother for a vacation, go out with her around the city, go to the park, listen to her stories and help around the house. A few years ago her grandmother passed away, and Anna missed her very much. Next Sunday the girl passed the house by some business again and heard the familiar scent. Since then she came to the house every Sunday, sat on a bench near the playground, listened to the smell of buns and remembered her grandmother. But one day there was no smell. Anna got courage and went to the window — there was nobody in the kitchen. Then she returned to the playground, sat down on the bench and cried. The girl thought that something had happened to the old lady, and she was afraid to imagine the most terrible thing. Suddenly she felt that someone had come to a bench and was standing next to her. She looked up and saw that woman. The old lady smiled sweetly. She held a small basket with rolls and a glass of milk in her hands. An elderly woman asked if she could sit beside Anna, and the girl nodded “yes”. They started talking about buns, then the woman admitted that she had noticed Anna long ago, and Anna told her about grandmother. So they met and became friends. And all because of the fragrant cinnamon rolls.
Anna got up at 8 am to catch up and walk a few blocks to the house. An elderly woman lived there. Every Sunday morning the old lady baked cinnamon rolls. The smell of fresh baking from her kitchen was heard for a whole block. Once, on the way to the post office, where Anna's parcel came by mistake, the girl passed by the house of the old woman and heard that smell. She stopped, closed her eyes and enjoyed the scent. It was a fresh dough, sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar, poured with vanilla sauce. Anna imagined a baking tray with homemade buns, neat rows of ruddy curls under a creamy white sauce. She literally felt the taste of buns. Suddenly a tear ran down her cheek. The girl remembered her grandmother, who baked cinnamon rolls. Anna liked to come to her grandmother for a vacation, go out with her around the city, go to the park, listen to her stories and help around the house. A few years ago her grandmother passed away, and Anna missed her very much. Next Sunday the girl passed the house by some business again and heard the familiar scent. Since then she came to the house every Sunday, sat on a bench near the playground, listened to the smell of buns and remembered her grandmother. But one day there was no smell. Anna got courage and went to the window — there was nobody in the kitchen. Then she returned to the playground, sat down on the bench and cried. The girl thought that something had happened to the old lady, and she was afraid to imagine the most terrible thing. Suddenly she felt that someone had come to a bench and was standing next to her. She looked up and saw that woman. The old lady smiled sweetly. She held a small basket with rolls and a glass of milk in her hands. An elderly woman asked if she could sit beside Anna, and the girl nodded “yes”. They started talking about buns, then the woman admitted that she had noticed Anna long ago, and Anna told her about grandmother. So they met and became friends. And all because of the fragrant cinnamon rolls.
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