It was right there, at that moment in front of the glass shield where I pointed “Éclair aux Fraises please”
Regardless of the overwhelming smell of freshly baked bread, I was only thinking about biting into that éclair.
Flash forward to 10:30 pm : home, jammies on, and my stomach couldn’t help the excitement of knowing what’s coming for it.
As I carefully put my éclair on my blue tea-cup plate, I examine it for a little while, then without hesitation, bite in.
The strawberries are falling over, custard is dripping down and the powdered sugar is covering my fingers.
It’s almost depressing to see something so beautiful turn into such a horrid mess.
It didn’t even resemble anything I had wanted to eat; it just looked like a messy bun of colors that didn’t match.
I’m interrupted as my neighbor knocks on the door to ironically offer me a piece of “Forêt Noire” on behalf of his friend’s birthday.
“What’s that on your nose?” he says.
I thank him for the cake and wash the traces of crime and powdered sugar off my face, then go back to bed.
No more éclair for today.