window shopping

It started as… window shopping, really. Breakfast had heard from others just how many carats a show-quality stroodle could run you, and she was most certainly not the kind of girl who kept cash in her bank account for long– nor could she even fathom what made a stroodle show-quality or otherwise. All the same, the cute, cuddly, yappy little guys in the window of Pedigree Pets made her heart feel just as goopy and sticky as what she imagined their fluffs of carefully coiffed hair must feel like.

That itself would prove to be a dangerous ideation. It always started with wondering what their fur might feel like if she pet them, then she was sidling her way inside the store to look with widened eyes as they yipped at any passers-by for attention, and soon it would be asking hypothetical prices or care tips from the owner, calling her credit cards to see if they might increase her limit; the story wrote itself, here.

But going in to pet one wouldn’t hurt anything, right…?

Nope. Not a chance. She would be good and wipe the smudge her nose left on the window, and just keep on walking…

“Heya!” Breakfast nearly jumped out of her fur before turning to the door, which a bun as brightly colored as herself propped open with a broad shoulder. Over one of her hands, she wore an oven mitt, and around her neck was an apron emblazoned with the words “Let me bake your day!” While she’d always imagined pet stores to have a certain… unsavory smell, the scent that wafted from this one was anything but. It was delicious and sweet, something that played at the edges of a memory from when she was too little to properly remember much.

“Wanna come in? I’m playing around with my cookie recipe, and I could use a second opinion.” One of the stroodles at her side yipped, and she chuckled warmly. “Well, a second opinion from someone who can speak, that is.”

Didn’t have to ask Breakfast twice. “Uh-huh,” she replied, practically hypnotized by a never-before-experienced combination of cute imps in the window, yummy-smelling treats, and a pretty lady inviting her to experience all of that at once. Oh, yes. This had most certainly baked her day.

“They don’t bite,” pretty lady said, likely noticing Breakfast staring at the rowdy pen of stroodles that she’d been gawking at through glass just moments ago. “But they’re still young, so I’m still working on training them. I’ll be right back, alright? Keep ‘em company for me!”

Breakfast nodded with the same blank look, only coming to her senses somewhat when she leaned over the side of the enclosure and offered her hand to the litter. One of the stroodles sauntered up and gave her a solitary lick before allowing her to stroke its head, which she was delighted to find was neither goopy nor sticky, but instead consisting solely of soft, fluffy fur. “You’re so cute,” she whispered, scritching behind its ears, too, for good measure. “Yes you are. So cute.”

The stroodle backed away only when the woman from before entered the main storefront again, this time with a plate of cookies in her hands. The imp sat seemingly instinctively, to which she laughed. “They’re still learning, so they think they get goodies any time they sit. Next time, buddy, alright?” She took a small training treat from the pocket of her apron and offered it to the stroodle as a consolation of sorts. “I’m Quince, by the way. This is my shop.”

Breakfast perked a little. Quince. “I’m Breakfast,” she replied. “Thanks for inviting me inside.”

“Breakfast,” Quince repeated. “I’m more of a dessert girl myself, but the two can mix better than any other meals. Why don’t you sit?”

Again, without hesitation, Breakfast took the seat nearest her, mirroring the stroodle in anticipation. “So what kind of cookies were you baking…?”

“Chocolate chip,” Quince replied, breaking a piece off and holding it up. “Do you like them?”

“They’re my favorite,” Breakfast replied, even if it wasn’t really true. They could be her favorite, right? The cookies on that plate looked awfully damn good.

“Lucky you,” she hummed, leaning in. “Alright, open up.”

Breakfast blinked. She hesitated a moment to see if that was a joke. No way, right? Quince didn’t laugh, though, just waited for Breakfast with all of the calm patience that she could only guess she used with her imps. She opened her mouth. The piece of cookie was still warm on her tongue, and– yep. That settled it. Chocolate chip was definitely her favorite flavor now. Breakfast chewed over the piece slowly, like it might be the last time she ever had once of Quince’s devilishly good confections.

“What do you think?” Breakfast hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes before she opened them up to see Quince standing above her.

“I’ve never had a better cookie in my life,” Breakfast replied without hesitation, earning her another laugh and a beaming grin from Quince.

“That’s a good girl,” she replied, patting Breakfast on the back. “You can have more, if you want. I baked a big batch.” Breakfast was already nodding, empowered by the praise. “Let’s go to the back, though. I think the stroodles will be jealous if we snack too much in front of them.”

Who knew window shopping could be so sweet?