Pink Frosting

He says something that I don’t quite understand, and says it again when I don’t respond.


I look up at his face as he repeats himself, this time much louder. I make a sudden move to get up and he kicks me hard in the side and I wonder why no one is doing anything to stop this.

“DO IT!”

I move forward on my hands and knees and crawl forward, uncertain of his intent. The curb is smeared with pink frosting from the cake, and I taste the comforting sweetness as my teeth settle against the cement.

He lifts one foot, raising it behind my head. Right now, Carol is walking through the front door. She looks around the crepe paper and balloons, and for a moment, waits for me to leap out and yell suprise.

-Pink Frosting, Adrian Tomine

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