Starting with the year of 2004, when she was only fourteen and made her first unsuccessful attempt to bake muffins for her classmate that she had a crush on, she hated Valentines. Back then, muffins turned out to be too moist and sour. He didn’t like it. She felt embarrassed and stroked the fourteen from the month of February in her calendar, as if it hadn’t existed at all.
This year she’s baking muffins for the one that she loves, and this year her kitchen smells like sweet cinnamon (and so does she!) – and she knows that he is definitely going to like it.
The first time she brought muffins to him was when they were still dating. Chocolaty, round and soft – and the sweet muffin lure had even ended with a sweeter kiss. She even remembers the taste. His lips were full and soft, and so tempting. He was slightly blushing and so was she, while she kept repeating “kiss me, kiss me!” in her mind. And it happened. Must be the witchcraft of muffins. Since then he calls her “my muffin.”
To this day she still pretends to hate Valentines, even though she has bought an expensive 10 year old wine – just because he likes it, and just because it reminds them about their romantic holidays in a distant and enchanting Portugal. She even bought him a small present. “Must be the witchcraft of muffins,” she repeated with a smile as she was putting the dress on; the same one she wore when they kissed for the first time.