My name is Mano and I am a sugar-glazed donut.
I am a donut waiting, in a storefront, for a customer to eat me. If I had one wish before being eaten, it would be to pick my customer instead of the customer picking what kind of donut she desires. A few minutes ago, I looked at my chocolate cousin being gobbled up by a fat man in a suit, who smelled like onions. He did not even appreciate my sweet cousin.
I want to be eaten by this little girl looking at us through the window. With green, sparkling eyes, she seems to treasure us. She will take her time to savor us. I can imagine my glaze being spread out all over her smiley face.
Or I want to be eaten by this delicate woman who is kissing her girlfriend while waiting for Marie, the saleswoman. I can imagine them sharing me by exchanging bites and feeding each other. They would be seated at one of the little round tables in front of the store, placing the wooden chairs as close as possible. The delicate woman with long hair, would open the bag and look at me with twinkling eyes. She would grab a piece of me and place it in her girlfriend’s mouth, seeing the excitement in her face. At the end of their kiss, they would look at each other with a hint of mischief gleaming in their eyes.
Or I want to be eaten by this huge brown-and-white Saint Bernard who is licking its lips while staring hungrily at me. I notice that I have never seen any black Saint Bernards, I wonder if they even exist. Unfortunately, his owner does not seem to agree: “Tommy! Tommy, come on.”
Or I want to be eaten by these funny tourists who are singing instead of speaking, wondering which one of us is the best. I know they are tourists because they are wearing “I Miami” tee-shirts. Only tourists wear these shirts. They will appreciate my nice flavor. Or maybe not. Maybe they will think I am too greasy or too sweet and will throw me away. Actually, I change my mind; I don’t want to be eaten by any tourists.
I don’t look as good as I used to. My nephew was too big and, thus, Marie placed a piece of his right side on me. His glaze went all over me, but not in a mouth-watering way. The worst is that when leaving, he took some of my glaze because we were stuck together. After that, Berry crushed my right side, putting some raspberry toppings on me. Marie definitely needs to be more careful. I don’t look good anymore. That’s why the lovers did not want me. That’s why nobody wants me.
It has been hours, I am here now and nothing has happened. My whole family is gone. We are only two left. Now it is dark outside and I don’t like it. I don’t like what it means. I am still hoping that one last customer will rush into the store and pick me. Anyone. Even the fat man smelling of onions. Even the funny tourists who will be so hungry that they will eat all of me .
Marie goes to the door and locks it. She opens the window of the storefront. When grabbing the cinnamon donut, she brushed me. She puts down the cinnamon donut on the counter and licks her pinky finger. Her eyes blink. She is going to pick me instead of the cinnamon; she loved my glaze. She grabs me and I feel excited. However, she seems disappointed that I am not soft anymore. She turns me over and sees some mold on my bottom. She is disgusted.
“It does not mean I am not good anymore, Marie!” I want to yell. “It is just that I stayed too long in the storefront. You know if you remove the mold, I will still be good. Put me in the microwave and I’ll be as soft as you desire …”
She decides to throw me away, without even tasting me. She grabs the cinnamon and turns around. Her long brown hair is bouncing while she walks away. Goodbye, Marie.