ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ... ɪ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ [ᴇɴɢ]

ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ... ɪ ᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ

I like chocolate cake

Michael has always loved chocolate cake, it has been his favorite dessert for as long as he can remember. He loves to feel the chocolate melt in his mouth and taste it from the roof of his mouth to his throat, whatever the type; milk, white and especially bitter.

Just by feeling the taste touch her mouth, her mood instantly lifts, along with a smile accompanied by a moan of pleasure. He could even swear that since the first time he tasted it, his reaction has been the same.

-Damn, I swear I'd kill for a slice of cake-. He said to himself, impatiently tapping his fingers on the screen where images from the pizzeria's cameras were displayed.

His shift was still a bit far from over, and so he was a bit anxious to get out of there. He was getting impatient, turning to look at the clock every 5 minutes, waiting for his time to leave.

Patience is not his strong point, much less if his basic needs were in the way, and at this moment his appetite is also impatient to have any food, especially a chocolate cake. It wasn't the right time to eat something so sweet at such a high hour of the morning, but he didn't think much of it.

He let out a small chuckle, eating a slice of cake at six in the morning sounded like something only a child would be capable of. Without the worries of anything else, just banal things on his mind like school, playing with his friends, having the coolest toy, going to the park and so on.

Honestly, he missed a bit those happy and endearing moments of his childhood.

He let himself be carried away by the flood of memories of his childhood, focusing only on the happy ones.

For Michael, what was a few minutes of disassociation from the world was an hour or two of real time. Shaking his face, slightly frightened that he might have missed something on the cameras. He glanced at the monitor, but was met with the same darkness of the place and nothing interesting.

Concentrating specifically on the screen showing the animatronics, which are immobile.

Determined not to lose concentration on his work, he continued to check the monitor, wasting the remaining time on what he was being paid to do. He continued like this until the end of his shift, where he was now so tired that he turned his mind off any elaborate thoughts and made his way home.

Michael lazily climbed the stairs, dragging his feet along the floor and tired look on his face, imagining feeling the softness of his bed beneath him.

Mind blank and with the sole purpose of touching the hardwood floor of his apartment. Cursing himself for selecting the highest floor apartment. He gasped softly as he climbed the last step, seeing the door that led to his home. He pulled the key out of one of his pants pockets and inserted it into the keyhole, and then turned it, unlocking the door.