The Next Best Thing to Sex and Chocolate - A Pastry from Harmonie

I am sitting at the computer desk, my legs on the hard surface where my arms should be, and I am listening to my friend because she needs an understanding ear.  My stomach growls a little as I realize that I have not brought anything to eat... not even a can of tuna that normally finds its way in my bag.  I try to distract my stomach by paying even closer attention to my friend, but that tactic only works for about two seconds before my striking stomach begins its protest more persistently.
Then, a figure appears at the TESL library door and asks, "Marie-Eve, c'est toi ça?" and I am greeted by Sam, an angel, who continues to say that she had been hoping that I would be here.  I ask why and am a little confused because I am so engrossed in listening to my beautiful friend.
Sam merely responds, "Attrape," - my eyebrows do not even have the time to react by shooting upwards before my hands have caught a lovely pastry wrapped in cellophane;  it has arrived from the place that will exist next to my personal heaven where frozen yogurt is SELF-SERVED - Harmonie - a jewel of a pastry shop where the goodies will make any dieter doubt their resolve for the rest of their lives.  One bite from any of their pastries will leave even the most sour of people feeling as light and fluffy as the goodness they have just ingested.
So, I am holding, in my hungry hands, a small piece of sugar paradise and my stomach makes an appreciative noise just to make sure that I understand how excited it really is.  I waste no time at all - the cellophane has come off and a tan-colored and sugar-dusted morsel of bliss with white cream has been torn off - my mouth opens in anticipation and then the taste of sweet bread with a buttery and sugary cream invades my senses.  I revel in the lightness, the sweetness, the softness and the  deliciousness of that first bite;  I eagerly tear off another and my friend goes for a piece as well - I manage not to snatch the sweet treasure from her hands and I merely say, with an affected smile, "That IS my dinner, you know."  After I have taken another piece and languished a little while savouring the taste and feel of it on my tongue, I ask her if she wants more because I feel a little bad, but I am relieved when she says no!  What can I say?  I am known for not being a sharer of food...
The pastry disappears much quicker than I want it to and I am wishing at this point for it to magically reconfigure into another one so that I can eat just one more.  The sweetness has calmed my stomach who has decided that I am not such a lost case afterall since I have provided it with such a treat and I can more fully concentrate on my friend - I may not have been able to share my pastry with her, but I can and do share my time and love.
The smile on my face remains far into the night, all because of a delicious and sinful, yet so short-lived, affair with a pastry.

One of the Quickest, Yet One of the Best, Hugs Ever

We are in the school yard, the kids are running around deliriously because their recess has been extended by ten minutes on account of the beautiful weather and it being the last day of the week.  Red and green balls are whizzing by, hitting the backs, legs and arms of their intended victims while a few of the the sixth grade girls have joined and locked arms as though they will never let go, marching around displaying their close comraderie.  A shrieking and screaming blur shoots by pursued closely by a darker and burlier snickering shape, a cat and mouse game enjoyed by both, even though the young girl does not sound as though she is having any fun at all.
A mauve-coloured jacket bundling up a tiny little thing of a girl enters my peripheral vision and I turn towards her with a smile.  I  stay focused, however, on the hyperactive missiles the students and faculty like to call balls because I know that my luck will not protect me when I am such an easy target.  My tiny sixth grader gets closer and begins to talk to me about the bake sale that will be happening during the parent/teacher night later on.  She is so excited and her little face is stretched into a huge grin that shows off her impressive blue and red braces catching and reflecting the afternoon sunshine.  Her mousy brown hair flutters in the wind while her fur-rimmed hood keeps her neck warm;  her muddy brown eyes are alight with joy and she prattles on and on about how she had to ask her mother and how there was a specific arrangement made between the two so that she could be picked up after her bake sale shift.  She asks me how everyone will be divided up and I tell her that I honestly do not know because Madame Laporte will be organizing that.  I tell her that she will probably be working with the others from our class... and I am interupted by a squeel of joy and the sight of her bouncing and jumping around in a minsicule circle.
She pumps her little fists in the air and continues to jump around.  She then moves very quickly and fluidly so that all of a sudden her seemingly breakable arms are wrapped tightly around my middle - I do not even have the time to smile down at her and to place my own sturdier arms around her before she has let me go and she is off running around, playing with the others.  I smile to myself as I cherish the warmth that such a small gesture can bring on such a brisk and fresh fall afternoon.