Bffs New Year Eve
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The chilly breeze off the lake nipped at their cheeks as twilight painted the sky in deepening shades of indigo. Laughter bubbled between the sisters, gloved hands clasped tight, boots crunching over frost-kissed grass. "They’ll taste like stardust this time—I swear!" the younger one insisted, breath visible in the cold. Hours earlier, flour had dusted the kitchen like snow—eggshells cracked with military precision, vanilla swirled into batter thick enough to spoon. Now, nestled in a woven basket beneath layers of checkered cloth, the cupcakes radiated warmth, their caramelized tops glistening under stray streetlamp light. Silk scarves fluttered as they adjusted each other’s woolen coats, mittens brushing away flour still clinging to sleeves. Distant pops erupted overhead—golden chrysanthemums burst across the night, reflected twin sparks in their wide eyes. Fingers sticky with frosting, they leaned back on the quilt, marvels of sugar and fire intertwining. The oldest bit her lip, grinning. "Next year," she whispered, "we add sprinkles."
