“A character says: ‘Put it down’”

The shop has a turquoise front with a white door and bright blue door knob.
It’s a tiny little corner spot, but has a big presence on the street. It’s always busy - work folk who stop in for coffee, families with strollers, and people just wanting a treat. The smell of freshly baked muffins and pies waft out the door every time it jungles open. Buttery scones and freshly ground coffee fill your nostrils, too, if you’re passing by. The most tantalizing smell is the cinnamon buns. I can’t walk by without eyeing the blue door knob longingly, wanting to go in.

My competition is in three and a half weeks and it’s shredding time – no carbs. Marcia, my trainer, has instilled in me that this is the most important time. No. Carbs.

So, I walk on. I’m far from the door. But it’s like the buns know I’m thinking about them and taunt me. The smell of sweet, sticky, carby goodness follows me.

I curse and start to power-walk. In the direction of the buns.
I get to the counter and pick one up with my hands, the smell and the sight make me want to shove it in my face.

“Put it down,” says a little voice next to me.

I turn and see a little kid in a stroller, talking to me.

“You’re supposed to use the tongs.”