The sound of bubbling gravy and the aroma of the mixture coming together was comforting.
Mable brought a wooden spoon filled with the gravy to her mouth. She inhaled, she blew, she tasted.
"Delicious," she said and put down the spoon.
For a couple of hours, the spaghetti sauce simmered over a low blue flame.
No Parmesan Cheese.
Mable left the house to go to the grocery store.
One hour later she walked into the kitchen. Surprise— her husband was home early from work. Fritz was sitting at the table, an empty bowl in front of him.
He smacked his lips. "That was great soup!"