Our Great Aunt arrived carrying a cake she’d made special, a cake she’d carried all that long way on the Greyhound, a cake that was carefully sliced and served that first evening for dessert. We weren’t sure about our Great Aunt, but that cake was amazing, delicious like none other.
Now, lifting the lid on the cake carrier, she found just a sliver, a sliver so thin it leaned, barely standing on its own, and exclaimed, “Well, now, doesn’t that take the cake?”
We thought she might be mad but then saw that she was smiling, smiling with tears in her eyes, saying, “The sister sliver, exactly what your grandmother and I used to do, neither of us ever daring to eat the very last of the cake.”
Her eyes shone brightly as she shoved that last thin slice of cake into her mouth.
The word I heard at Denise’s GirlieOntheEdge’s blog this week is “slice“. The link is open. Limit six sentences per story; write responsibly.