She was charring the small white fluff on her wooden stick with deliberate wrist flicks. The flames caught the rotund piece every few minutes, creating black cracked skin on top of the snowy miniature pillow. I watched her dip the skewer into the fire, sparks erupting upwards onto the twinkling aubergine sky, then twitch it away.
“What is that?” I whispered to her, agog at the ivory sponge ablaze. She popped it into her mouth.
“Marshmallow,” she replied, turning to me. I stared at her blankly. “Haven’t you ever tasted marshmallow before?” I shook my head. “Here,” she said, grabbing another soft specimen from the plastic bag next to her. “Try it.” I gingerly accepted the offering between my index and thumb, afraid to crush the downy substance. The first bite I tasted a thousand candy shops fashioned into a cushion. “You like?” she asked. The sweetness coated my…
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