THE SALT OF HER TEARS.

十

I WAS baking late into the night. if my body was to be correct, today, the fifth of february, was to be my last day.

i put all my effort into the lavish cake. he had ordered a plain, cliche one, but i would make it better. to me, perfect would be my cliche.

the last step was the hardest. i could not destroy the cake, as i put the fondant. 

i was making the bride figurine. for the veil i made it to flow all the way down from the uppermost tier to the last. for the face, i had no idea what the bride was to look like, so i shaped it into mine.

and for the groom...

tears fell from my eyes and into the batter and i whisked it, and when i finished sculpting it, i placed it carefully on the top, next to the bride that i could only wish would be me.

and as i finished the cake, the last drop of my life run dry.