Cake for Breakfast

The morning after they ran away from home, Abby and Danger had cake for breakfast. It was squished into abstract art from Danger’s pocket and when he whipped it out and they unwrapped it from a plastic cage Abby said it tasted like freedom, but Danger thought it was more like wet grass and cold park benches. That day, with the sickly sweet taste of new horizons stuck between their teeth, they sat half-asleep and leaning in a parking lot soaking up the sun for hours. When they lost the light to spinning and the strength of space, Abby went to a playground she remembered in hazy afterthoughts from her childhood. It was so vivid to her then, but she couldn’t put her hands on the moment that carved a see-saw memory into the shadowed corners of her skull. Danger kissed her with flimsy lips and whispered in his ghostly words: “This is where you made me.”