Choosing a cake is so tough.
It is my birthday after all. The cake maker is waiting impatiently for me to make up my mind, grimace on his face.
“Kid, you have been here for an hour. Choose already.”
I won’t retaliate. It’s a happy day. I don’t want to spoil the rare day I get to step outside the enclosure. Can’t wait to say grace and attack the cake.
“Red Velvet, please.”
“Munro’s Center for Mental Instability.”
The man gave me the same look, I received whenever I step out, always escorted ofcourse.
Word Count: 100
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