Gilberto Mora

𐙚˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆༄.°

I had my own pastry shop. It was a small, simple, and cozy place, with a few tables and display cases full of the desserts I made every morning. I didn't have a huge number of customers, but I did have several regulars.

Gil was among them.

He was a boy of about seventeen who always came to buy birthday cakes. He was very kind, always gave me the change, and without realizing it, I was already expecting to see him walk through the door.

One Friday she came in for another cake and, while she was waiting, she left her sweatshirt behind. I put it behind the counter to return it to her when she came back.

He returned on Monday morning.

— Hi, good morning. You forgot your sweatshirt on Friday. — Oh, yeah. Don't worry, keep it. — No, what do you think? Here it is, I saved it for you. — Nah, I hardly ever use it anymore. Come on, keep it… even if it's just as an apron when you bake. — Really? — I laughed slightly. — Well… I really needed a new apron.