Flash Fiction Friday – Critical Cinnamon Roll

So I was watching Critical Roll earlier and I was kind of taken with one of the random NPCs in this week’s episode (hence the dorky title). Enjoy!

Critical Cinnamon Roll

He stood outside the window of the bakery just watching for far longer than he’d planned to. Long enough that people cast him odd glances as they passed by. 

There were just so many things in the window. Luxurious cakes slathered in chocolate and cream, golden-crusted pies, crispy, little biscuits, loaves of fluffy bread the size of a man’s forearm, cookies of all sizes, flavors and designs, and sumptuous pastries, so many pastries. After all those months in the frozen north, where a dry bread-roll was practically impossible to come by and so exorbitantly priced even the guard captains could barely afford them, it was a bit overwhelming. At intervals the door opened to let a customer in or out, carrying with it a whiff of deliciousness that worked its way up his nostrils and, it seemed, into his very soul.

By the time he finally moved toward the door, sweat was running down his back. He was dressed as scantily as propriety allowed – linen trousers and a light, airy shirt whose sleeves ballooned in the light breeze – and it was still far too hot, but he was enjoying the discomfort as a sharp contrast to the kind he’d grown accustomed to. 

“What can I get for you today, love?” the wiry woman behind the counter asked, flaxen hair straining to break free of the ribbon that bound it behind her head.

He’d thought about this for a long time. There were so many choices, all of them valid in their own right. Yet for him, there was only one answer. “A cinnamon roll,” he said, smiling with more confidence than he knew he had in him. “And a cup of plain coffee.”

“Coming right up. For here or to go?”

“For here, please.”

The table he chose was small and tucked in a corner, a beautiful thing in blue mosaic, sharp pieces of ceramic depicting a shoreline and an azure sea, seagulls hovering overhead. His coffee came almost immediately, but he left in untouched as he picked up the roll. It was large, fist-sized, and the cinnamon was plentiful enough to soak through the bottom of the bun in little beads but not so plentiful that it was overwhelming.

He closed his eyes and sank his teeth into it.

Ah… heaven…

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