A Cinnamon Roll of Parchment

I hopped out past the garden gate and followed the sweet, buttery scent down the sidewalk to the little bakery terrace. Up on a low wooden bench, a small striped paper pastry bag had blown against an empty woven bread basket. The crinkled paper was catching the breeze, ready to flutter into the dirt. Leaning my plush stalk firmly against the pleated base, I held it steady while nudging the folded top beneath the basket's thick willow handle. It slid in with a crisp, dry rustle and tucked flat, safe from the wind. Resting my soft head against the smooth wicker, I watched the warm golden crumbs shimmer in the sun.