Cory Frye
Last year, at around this time, I encountered the biggest pancake I’d ever beheld in my life.
My poor fork quivered, intimidated. No cattle could produce the necessary butter to sate this sucker’s thirst. It sat certain in its singularity: “I’m all and everything you need.”
Because anything beyond that tasty fluff was dangerous.
Shirley Dixon had seen such disbelief before. Many, many times, in fact. I didn’t know her well – I…