Just a Little Sugar

Flour

Sugar punched the dough in the bowl. She took a handful of flour from the flour bag and sprinkled it on the dry surface. Her hands were stark white as a result.  She turned over the bowl and the dough flopped onto surface and she cut a piece of the dough and picked up a rolling pin.
She rolled up the dough into a thin sheet.

Sugar didn't know why Mr faints-a-lot was still on her mind. The speed with which she limped out of there was enough to make him think of her as questionable so why was she still thinking of him?
Her mind couldn't come up with a reason not to; so she let it drift further.

What was he like?

Was he nice?

Did he treat women with respect?

Was he a douche?

Her phone rang from the other side of the kitchen where she charged it. She looked up, digging herself out of her own thoughts.
She wiped her soiled palms on the front of her shirt.

Bad habit Sugar  she chided herself.
She maneuvered the crutch under her arm and moved towards the phone.

Her leg was better, the prosthetic wasn't putting pressure on the stump again and she felt relief. It wasn't hard to use the crutch, she was used to that
She knew everywhere in her house. So it seemed easy to her.
Wheelchairs not so much. Her apartment was cramped and a wheel chair would just make things uncomfortable for her. That and she didn't have the money for one.

"Hello" Sugar said into the phone when she was successfully seated on a plastic chair that she kept in her kitchen for that purpose.
"Good afternoon ma"

"Where are you?" Maamé asked

"It's my day off ma" Sugar replied licking the dough off her fingers absent mindedly

"I know it's your day off Sugar. You work for me" Maamé said exasperatedly. Sugar could picture her rolling her eyes at the other end of the phone line.

"I'm home ma"

"Good. Someone called the office for you" Maamé continued.

"Who? "

"Someone you delivered food to on Friday. She said you helped her son. What did you do?" Maamé asked skeptical

Mr faints-a-lot. Why was he calling for her?

"He fainted. I just poured water over him and checked his pulse" Sugar replied

"Well the mother is grateful. Take down her number okay?  And call her"

"Yes ma'am" sugar said as Maamé proceeded to read off the number.  Sugar turned to the back of her book of recipes and wrote down the number.
"Thank you ma" she said at the end of the call. She hobbled to the socket and plugged her phone back in.
She considered calling the lady. The mother of  Mr faints-a-lot. She chuckled.
How weird was it that she didn't know any of their names?
Sugar shook her head to clear her thoughts.
She had to finish the pies she was making. She had to deliver a hundred to a family at sangotedo by 4pm and it was almost noon.

Sugar did freelance work a lot for people. It paid her a lot more than working ten plus hours for a standard wage. Private catering jobs like these had the ability to change her life and standard of living; if she didn't have enough bills already piling up.
She hobbled back to her rolling pin. Using her cutter, or whatever it was called she cut the dough in circles spooned some of the filling inside and closed it shut. She repeated the process over and over humming to herself.

She wiped the beads of sweat off her brow when she was done as she rinsed her hands in the sink.

Her final batch was in the oven and she estimated it'd take 20 more minutes,  she headed to the bathroom  to take a quick shower. She didn't want to appear in front of her client with flour in her hair.