❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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six ◌ anti
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The Flip Side bakery was completely empty. It was dirty, disheveled, and filled with graffiti. The innocuous corner shop that stood next to a Soul Cycle gym in the Arts District of Los Angeles, was my mother's greatest dream. For years, all she could imagine and talk about involved opening her own bakery. Kat and I were finally old enough to take care of ourselves, and my dad's business blossomed tremendously. Mom had the time, dad had the money, and before we knew it, a set of silver keys were dropped into the palm of her hand.
"It smells funky in here," Kat was the first to comment. As a family, we strolled into the dreary building with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
"The odor will subside once I've cleaned the place," mom chuckled. Her face glowed with excitement— nothing could bring her down. "Soon, it'll smell like irresistible pastries and high quality coffee."
"What do you envision?" I asked her. Admittedly, I only asked to be courteous, because to be honest, it was hard to picture a trendy cafe in the dump we were standing in.
Mom beamed enthusiastically, "well here," she waved both her arms animatedly in front of a blank wall beneath a curved archway. "This is where the registers will be. The counters will be made of spiraled marble. And next to it, will be glass displays of our baked goods."
"Please tell me you'll be including the Langka cupcake to the menu," dad chimed in, the grin on his face gradually growing.
(translation: jackfruit)
"Of course!" Mom chirped, approaching her husband and pulling him into a hug. "I already have a name for it: The Julius Select. It'll be one of our top-billed menu items, named after the man who bought me my dreams!"
"Hindi," dad held mom at arms length, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I only bought the building, but you're creating your dreams."
(translation: no)
"Like our girls one day," mom brandished out an arm, prompting both Kat and I fall into her warm chest. She always smelled like lavender and fresh dough. "You two will always be the greatest dream achieved, and this bakery will be the greatest dream to chase. Never give up on yours, okay?"
"Yes, mommy," Kat hummed.
"Of course. I love you, mom."
My dream was so realistic, it convinced my mind that the images developed during REM, was authentic. When I slowly regained consciousness, only warmth encapsulated my body, similar to my mother's hug. My lips lifted into a small smile, expecting to be wrapped in my mom's arms, but when my eyelids peeled open, I was alone.
