Sheet Cake
Dear Diary:
I rushed down the stairs at my Midtown subway stop and onto a downtown 6 train. The doors closed immediately behind me.
The car was packed. Sweat was dripping from my brow in the oppressively humid air. Every seat was taken, so I held on to the closest metal pole.
As I took a deep breath and got my bearings, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a man in overalls and work boots devouring a large sheet cake straight from a pink cardboard box. He was using a plastic fork and knife.
Apparently oblivious to his fellow riders, he was relishing each bite. Every so often he took a big, restorative swig from the half gallon of milk by his side.
He was still gobbling up his cake when the train got to my stop. As I got off, I had one thing, and one thing only, on my mind: a hefty slice of moist cake.
— Kayvan Gabbay
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