Cinnamon Sweet

I rounded the corner, slamming into the wall, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“Were you followed here?”

I cracked my neck in either direction, and saw emptiness around us.

“Good, get in here!”

I stepped into the small room, the heavenly smell of the pie I had stolen filled up our nostrils. With mouths watering and hands shaking they dug into the sweet, sticky, filling.

Stomping footsteps caused us to stare wide eyed at one another, and then to our cinnamon colored fingers.

“I thought you weren’t followed!!”

We quickly shoved as much pie into our mouths as humanly possible before making a mad dash for it, leaving behind the empty pie tin and a roaring man.