we were closing up at the restaurant, three of us huddled around the register, doing a lot less closing than eating a piece of cake. all year i toil away, hauling hot plates from kitchen to dining room like a caffeinated pack mule, waiting patiently for this seasonally available spice cake to arrive. the day had finally come, like a birthday or vacation, bordered by doodled hearts and stars on my mental calendar. with the chairs finally up, i cut a slice for us to share, the struggle of that first piece extraction apparently evident.
“are you sure you don’t need help?” my coworker laughed.
know this: i do need help. just not with my spice cake.
after our synchronized first bite, we shared tentative glances, as if unsure how to address the elephant in the dessert. was that a hint of banana in the icing?
“no, that’s lemon, unless…”
“who puts banana in spice cake?”
i just hadn’t expected such a laffy taffy sabotage.
on the subject of fruit, peach season is taking its final bows – a statement as much devastating as it is inevitable. every autumn, i am less and less interested in eating butternut squash, and more and more interested in pumpkin spice lattes. i am, as it turns out, exactly like other girls, which is to say i am very fun and unique and beautiful.
a LoT oF yoU hAve bEen aSkiNg mE if my hair is long enough to braid yet. remember last year when i made a huge deal out of cutting it? fortunately i no longer regret my haircut; i can see now it was a necessary plot detail. i think what i do regret is regretting it at all, which is something i should remember, assuming i’ll have another opportunity to regret something in the future.
okay, that’s enough of that. two albums, two reads, two videos.
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