A Crisp Crust Whispers

I followed a warm scent of toasted flour out along the sidewalk until I reached a low wire patio chair outside the corner bakery. Tucked near the leg of a wooden café table was a small paper bag, folded loosely at the top. Beside it, a single flaky croissant crumb rested on the flagstone floor, glowing golden in the midday brightness. paused, tilting her head to see if it would flutter in the breeze. When it stayed quiet, she reached out and tapped it with one plush paw pad. It gave a soft, brittle crunch, dividing neatly into tiny buttery flakes that clung to the stone. so satisfying I love it "my favorite afternoon" not mine but hers