A Little Warmth

I wandered down the street to the corner bakery, slipping inside as someone opened the glass door. On a low wooden display ledge, a stack of pleated brown pastry cups was leaning awkwardly against a wire cooling rack. Stepping forward gently, I pressed both paws against the tilted paper liners, nudging them back until they stood perfectly straight and upright. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and warm butter drifted all around me. Sitting quietly against the rack's cool wire frame, I watched the golden croissants rest peacefully in the afternoon glow.