Marlow came from around the side of the house holding a basket of sticky buns. “The three wrapped in wax paper are the nettle cheese dumplings for your father.”
Nettle cheese? I found the sticky, green, garlicky cheese revolting but my father loved it. Marlow turned to leave.
“Wait, I also came to talk to you.”
“Alright,” he said, wiping flour from one of his eyelids.
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