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It was going to be one of those lonely lunches
consisting of me, myself and a salad
staring up at me
from within its cardboard cage.
I shuffled down 1st Avenue,
salad in hand, when I remembered
that I hadn’t yet checked
the Twitter feed of the bakery
in my building. Huzzah!
“Get a free loaf of bread
if you mention this tweet.”
Carbohydrate fortune had
never smiled so fondly
upon me. I was agog.
Normally, it was a cookie
or a muffin, but today,
I wasn’t greedy–
I chose a petite semolina baguette.
I caressed the wand of bread,
marveling at how fresh it smelled
even through the bag in which it was held.
I set the toaster oven at a low temperature
and gently tore off a third of the loaf.
The crunch of crust against crust
rang triumphantly throughout the empty office.
I ate the salad quickly, in anticipation
of the buttery, crunchy, yet chewy golden goodness
yet to come.
And suddenly, I was glad I was eating alone.
Only alone can you truly savor
eating freshly baked bread
with butter.