A microfiction of 100 words
Jonas says that making bread is a window onto the soul. You must knead as you live life, he says, with strength and certainty. Neither a bully nor timid with the dough under your hands. Give something of yourself to it, he says, and feel for the moment when it comes alive.
He guided her as she touched, tentative and embarrassed to brush his fingers. With flour and sweat on his cheek he praised her, encouraging more, and laughing hearty at the pout of concentration on her lips.
Jonas knew that he could never love her.