"Sorry to startle you," Bunny said immediately. It would have been a better idea to knock, she realized too late. One of the side effects of being on her own was that some of the social graces were easy to forget once she was back among other people.
"I just couldn't resist the siren's call of cinnamon. Are you really making donuts?" Taking a few steps closer, but staying well out of the chef's way, she peered into the pot on the stove. Sure enough, a ball of dough was cooking away in the oil. "Well, would you look at that," she breathed.
It was so easy to feel enchanted by something that once would have been wholly unremarkable. The sizzle of the oil, and the slow transformation of the dough to a perfect golden brown as it cooked. Not for the first time, Bunny reflected that she really should have been more grateful for so many things in her life. Donuts being among those things. "That's got to be the prettiest sight I've seen in months. Oh, I'm Bunny, by the way."