On a tranquil and undisturbed evening, the pitter-patter of raindrops resounded against the panels of my workplace. I was lulling myself to the rhythm of nature’s melody, gently cruising into La-la Land.
A loud ‘Beep!’ rang, reeling me back. It was my cell phone. I had a text message.
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“Cheese cake, do you want some ..........?”
Message sender: Daddy.
“Cheese cake, do you want some ..........?”
Message sender: Daddy.
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CHEESE CAKE?
I immediately texted back.
“Why on earth are you calling me Cheese Cake?”
He refused to reply. Somehow or other, I can just hear him chuckling and wearing that huge grin of his.
I am thinking that it is because the very thought of me melts his heart, like CHEESE on a griddle. Or perhaps, he’s calling me after the only cake that he eats.
Well, it had better be either of those two things. (And not because cheese is lumpy and cellulite-like.)
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