At the bakery

Peyton Foster

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I smile, satisfied and lay it on the table before leaving the house. The wind blows steadily as I close the door and I’m glad I put my hood on. I thrust my hands into my pockets and begin to walk.

I reach the bakery and quietly open the door, smiling as the delicious aroma filled my nostrils. I walk to the counter and ask for one bun, I toss some change into the person’s hand and take a small bun.

I leave the store and sit down outside the store, picking at the little bun in my hands. The ground is wet and it’s already seeping through my clothes but I don’t care, I’m quite content at the moment. [/size][/ul]