Soup is an amazing dish, turning things into soup can generally save food. That's what Robin normally did. She had her go to's but the truth was everything was determined by taste.
Robin always brought her soup to her book club. Everyone asked what she put in it, but she always responded with odds and ends. Everyone always ate every bit of it, not a drop was left.
One evening, the bookclubs at the coffee house was invaded by an open mic that was supposed to happened the day before. The club members were not happy with the interruption. Robin lived around the corner, and volunteered for the group to travel the quick distance for a quiet place to discuss.
No one knew what to expect, in spite of her outgoing nature, she didn't really give much away about herself. Everyone who filed into her little apartment took in the sanitized, OCD looking space. The walls were scrubbed white as was the carpet, a potted violet sat on the window sill, and a leafy tapestry was hung behind a very white couch, with a woven coffee table and little seats. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment.
As the discussion wound down, it came to attention that someone spilled soup, maybe his name was Jamie or maybe it was Matt, I can't remember. All I remember is he apologized profusely, and began to try to clean it up with his napkin. Robin seemed to freeze.
"It's okay." she finally said after a long moment. She stood up and began to spray it with something. Everyone took that moment to excuse themselves to head out for drinks. All but Jamie, or was it Matt? Last I saw of whoever he was, he was picking up bowls for Robin. Robin closed the door behind me as I left.
Needless to say, I never saw Matt again, I'm sure it was Matt now.
Maybe the soup tasted different after that, or maybe it's in my head.
Robin always brought her soup to her book club. Everyone asked what she put in it, but she always responded with odds and ends. Everyone always ate every bit of it, not a drop was left.
One evening, the bookclubs at the coffee house was invaded by an open mic that was supposed to happened the day before. The club members were not happy with the interruption. Robin lived around the corner, and volunteered for the group to travel the quick distance for a quiet place to discuss.
No one knew what to expect, in spite of her outgoing nature, she didn't really give much away about herself. Everyone who filed into her little apartment took in the sanitized, OCD looking space. The walls were scrubbed white as was the carpet, a potted violet sat on the window sill, and a leafy tapestry was hung behind a very white couch, with a woven coffee table and little seats. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment.
As the discussion wound down, it came to attention that someone spilled soup, maybe his name was Jamie or maybe it was Matt, I can't remember. All I remember is he apologized profusely, and began to try to clean it up with his napkin. Robin seemed to freeze.
"It's okay." she finally said after a long moment. She stood up and began to spray it with something. Everyone took that moment to excuse themselves to head out for drinks. All but Jamie, or was it Matt? Last I saw of whoever he was, he was picking up bowls for Robin. Robin closed the door behind me as I left.
Needless to say, I never saw Matt again, I'm sure it was Matt now.
Maybe the soup tasted different after that, or maybe it's in my head.
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