Bisque is in LA for a film premiere.
Chicago was predicted to be above fifty degrees.
All this is to say I hatched a plot.
I laced up my new flower tennies and dug a sundress out of my summer suitcase.
This bakery had the highest Yelp reviews.
I asked for a Pop-Tart.
There was only one flavor (peach) left for the day.
The last time I ate a peach anything
was the second to last time I saw my cousin alive,
and it was bad too. A watery orange hand pie.
But, yes, I did come all this way.
I didn't like the cafe.
There was a fluffy boy at the register who listed every single thing in the bakery case.
In a Rainman-esque way.
Even though my previous sentence was, "I'd like a Pop-Tart."
I sat down, made notes in my planner, and took a bite.
The pastry was just chewy enough.
It tasted like brown butter.
No canned peaches.
Real deal, simmered slow.
But the place still creeped me out.
Maybe I should have gone to the second best Yelp bakery.
I packed up my journal and walked another half mile in the opposite direction.
This place was hidden in an alley.
There were no tables or chairs.
There were five Pop-Tart options, so I chose cherry with chocolate icing.
I found a sunny patch of grass to dine on, but I became distracted.
There are possibilities today!
I'm still a chubby wren delicately hopping along.
My pay is meager. My schedule too full.
But right now, it's Friday afternoon, and I have nothing to be.
I went to a barber for a trim.
I can afford this today, and so, I afforded.
The number 8 bus was due to arrive in 9 minutes.
I pulled up my grey hood and ate the pastry after all.
When I saw the CVS in the bus window, I pulled the cord.
Cashews on sale, a birthday card. and a new eye shadow.