Mario keeps seven magnificent wedding cakes in the window.
They are the same seven cakes since he opened the store. Over all those years, they never changed.
Every day, these cakes taunt me. They beg me to eat them.
The donuts or éclairs or brownies or fudge, which Mario also has in vast supply, they don't call out to me.
I ate them, sure, but yearned for the cakes.
You don't use the same ingredients for display cakes as you do for ones you eat.
I didn't know this back then.
We threw that rock through his window for nothing.
