The Little Bug That Steams Dough

In front of the rainy window, the ladybug hit the glass three times, and finally climbed over the window sill and landed on her drawing paper. She put down the brush and remembered what the psychiatrist said: "Look at it, it often takes detours." The sound of her mother kneading the dough could be heard next door, and the dough was repeatedly folded on the cutting board, as if it had never been rolled out thinly over the years. She opened the door and saw her mother gently rounding the hard dough: "Steam it and it will become soft." She stood in front of the mirror at midnight and wrote "It doesn't have to be perfect" on the water mist. The water droplets snaked down - like the ladybug, it finally found its own arc, meandering around itself.