The saliva was building up in my mouth. Even though the room was filled with people, talking, laughing, smiling, everything was in gray-scale; it was dead, old. The only thing in the room that exuded any light in that dismal landscape was the table. Oh, and what a table it was. The spread was set. Cake, beverages, custard. So many things that could bring life back to my waning senses. I looked over the spread. No cheesecake. What trickery was this? How could I survive on cake alone? I inched my way closer, feeling my resolve fail. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael Cates staring at me, his eyes grim, his lips thinned in anticipation. I could tell that he was silently admonishing me, but it didn’t matter. It was more than animalistic desire, it was a debilitating medical malady. He didn’t know this, but years ago, I had been bitten by a radioactive baker who had caused me to develop a condition that was constantly crying out for baked goods of any kind. Cheesecake did it the best, but there was none here. Without cheesecake, do I let myself give way to the hunger? Or do I satisfy it with a cheesecake substitute? The decision was too much. Using the metal spatula and throwing off the invisible shackles that Cates would place on me, I scoped a plate of cake and dove into the sugary wonderment that was this Utopian haven. The hunger had been satisfied… For now.
Posted on: Fri, 21 Jun 2013 16:22:21 +0000
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