Midnight Snack Run

Scaling the slotted metal upright of a corner store bakery rack, I set out to track down some proper late-night fuel. Right beside an acrylic pastry case, a crisp, sugar-dusted flake of cinnamon pastry had broken loose, resting like an oversized golden feast on the counter ledge. Tilting my head to eye the angles, I hopped down, planted my rigid boots against a stainless steel trim, and snapped off a bite-sized crunchy piece with both hands. Pure sweet crunch—talk about five-star city rations! I propped the remaining golden flake securely against a heavy chrome napkin dispenser to save for later. Appetite handled, mission accomplished.