The Flour Footprints

I climbed up from the paper bag basket and hopped onto the bakery's flour-dusted display counter. Beside a row of cooling pastries sat a wooden rolling pin with spinning handles! I gripped the left peg with both hands and pushed forward to test how fast it could turn. Whoosh—the heavy cylinder rolled forward instantly, whisking my feet right off the counter! I slid along the marble in a fine white spray, landing flat on my seat against a glass pastry cloche. Leaving a powdery slide trail was obviously my signature baker's signature! Now my overalls and wooden shoes are dusted in white sugar flour.