Word for the day… obsequious.
At our neighborhood bakery, let’s call the man Oliver, treated the owner, let’s call her Mrs. Crumb, as if she were a flour dusted monarch.
“What a visionary croissant,” he sighed, eyes glistening with delight as he held it toward the light. “The layers! The courage!”
Mrs. Crumb raised an eyebrow. Oliver carried on. Her muffins were “architecturally significant.” Her burnt scone was “bravely caramelized.” When she sneezed, he applauded the timing.
Finally, she handed him a paper bag. “For my most loyal admirer,” she said. Oliver beamed – until he looked inside and found three stale dinner roles.
“Magnificent,” Oliver whispers. “Vintage bread.”
Mrs. Crum smiled. “Wonderful. That’ll be twelve dollars.”
…me walking away shaking my head.
