Later, the Flowers Bloomed, Not for You

The Portuguese egg tarts I'd stood in line forty minutes to buy. I only went to wash my hands, and by the time I came back all four custard centers were gone.

All that was left was a box of crumbling pastry shells.

Garry Dickerson handed Doreen Simmons a napkin and explained it like it was nothing.

"Doreen ate the centers. I saved the shells for you."

I looked at the wreckage.

"Garry, I stood in that line for forty minutes."

He frowned at me.

"They're just egg tarts. Do you really have to make a thing of it?"

Something closed up in my throat and I couldn't speak.