all the desserts from the pastry shop she had seen from her bedroom window for five years. She did not allow herself to eat flour before. She wanted to be small and slender, like a sheet, which at any moment can be hidden in the inner pocket of the jacket.
Her marriage could be called ideal at first. Daniel was handsome, caring, intelligent. He had a charming voice and incredibly gentle hands. He cooked deliciously, sometimes helped with housework. He was loved in society. He was an excellent doctor. He played the guitar, listened to jazz. There was such harmony in their house that sometimes it seemed like a dream, it's enough to pinch Angie's left ankle, and this dream will end. However, no one was pinching. And the dream continued.
On the plate were crumbs of honey cake. Angie called the waiter and ordered a strawberry tart with caramel ice cream and mint. She did it with such greed, which is peculiar only to children and the homeless.
4 years ago the usual course of their life turned back. Daniel was 31 years old. A protracted crisis of middle age began in his life. Everything seemed empty to him. Everything seemed pointless. He began to manically buy books on self-development, engage in martial arts, enrolled in tennis and another bunch of sections, the names of which Angie already does not remember. Or just does not want to strain her memory. She is well now, she is waiting for her warm pie with a refreshing ice cream.
Angie perfectly remembers the day when Daniel came home and said that he wanted to get a second higher education. Angie was overjoyed. It seemed to her that watching the marasmus of her husband is better from afar. Everything suited her.
A month later, Anna, a first-year student of the Faculty of Economics, was waiting for the child. Daniel'd gone.
Honey pie had a more expressive smell. He smelled of cinnamon, cloves, a light shade of ginger. From him stood a thick and rich smell all over the cafe. But it was tasteless. Carnation did not have time to saturate the dough, ginger opened only for the smell. Something was missing in it. But in a strawberry cake everything was perfect. It smelled of whipped cream, vanillin, lemon, nutmeg, dry red wine. When she got married, she left her friends in her past. She lived for her husband. Now she was left alone. She felt lonely with her whole body. She put her heavy hand on Angie's shoulder. But she was not sad. Only lonely people discover the delights of desserts from the cafes. In families, baking is often done at home. It is always monotonous. Desserts from cafes are different. And there are very few of them. Maybe this is happiness?
It seemed to her that wine instead of coffee would be better suited to a strawberry pie. But she could not drink. She was driving. In her trunk was a bottle of champagne and two bags, in which Daniel and Anna found their last haven. She went to the lake.
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