There were no smiles, just puzzled, furrowed brows. Except for mine, of course. I had a barely-contained evil grin.
It’s a stick of butter disguised as a cake. It’s so good. So rich. I felt my thighs fluff and my arteries harden from just one bite.
Someone had said that they had really good food and were a “microbrewery” with “hand-crafted beers.” Whatever that was.