In Another Universe, You Baked Me A Casserole
In another universe, you baked me a casserole. You chop the potato and I dice the leftover ham. Still, in the same dimension in another universe, you let me add an extra pinch of pepper and a crazy amount of bacon crumbles, while I let you mansplain to me about the perfect ratio to slice a brisket.
In another universe, your favorite thing to cook is curry instead of pasta and steak, just because your sweet tooth tries to love more spice to adjust to my Asian taste bud.
In another universe, we go grocery shopping buying meat and garlic and I could finally stop being melancholic.
In another universe, you finally give in to take me out to overrated restaurants that I knew from viral Tiktok videos, and I finally get to try the weirdest recipe that you bookmarked on Allrecipes.
In another universe, you watch me eat my favorite bakmie hungrily like an affection-deprived little kid that I have always been inside, and I watch you curse whoever started the Cromboloni trend, as now suddenly everybody is an expert in pastry out of fear of missing out.
In another universe, I would learn different cuts of steak and you would learn how to actually feel your feelings.
In another universe, we are eating at a Michellin-starred restaurant while I tell you that the habit of always finishing my drink till the very last drop is actually a trauma response cause my mom would never let me order a drink as she didn’t want any extra bills every time we dined out, and you tell me why you stopped talking to your dad.
In another universe, maybe you’re not a broke chef who breaks hearts and I’m not a hopeless romantic who would rather be in an alternate reality.