![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
akonken.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsIn all honesty, Neve hated cooking. Loathed it.
Her kitchen, which she adored, was sleek and roomy - and, in her mind, an appendage of the part of the house that got the most activity.
No, not that one. The living room.
The kitchen had just enough storage space for all of her assorted glasses and trays (for hors d'oeuvres), and the fridge could hold several champagne bottles. Its utility was something she approved of.
But cooking in it? Unfathomable.
Why, she didn't even make toast.
Her kitchen, which she adored, was sleek and roomy - and, in her mind, an appendage of the part of the house that got the most activity.
No, not that one. The living room.
The kitchen had just enough storage space for all of her assorted glasses and trays (for hors d'oeuvres), and the fridge could hold several champagne bottles. Its utility was something she approved of.
But cooking in it? Unfathomable.
Why, she didn't even make toast.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}