He had spooned the frosting on all the dark brown cupcakes, and a little was left. The countertop is all dirty with patches of flour, some mixed with some liquid so they resembled also patches of cement. There were also patches of sugar and cocoa, often overlapping one another. The measuring cups were in various locations of the countertop, next to a mixing bowl here and there. Measuring cups still with a mixture of dairy products resembling different paint used by an artist just now on his palette.
There was still some left. Some frosting, as mentioned. So he squirted some directly into his mouth. That was the most decadent part of the product of his hour-long toil before his work went in the oven. He felt almost like a potter, now waiting for the transformation of his work in the kiln to complete. He had been peeking into the oven in which a light illuminated the progress of his work, the chocolate cupcakes that grew and changed shape. But the best part, the simplest part, was whipping up the frosting. And to be able to eat the leftover was the best reward for his hard work.
Almost the best reward. The best reward was to see the smile on the woman he wanted to impress. He brought four of the cooled cupcakes in a Rubbermaid container, set it on the countertop, grabbed his coat and put it on, then got the container in his arms, and walked out with his keys. After closing behind him, he observed the outside. It was late afternoon and the first green buds of the branches just started to show themselves, after most of the flowers have blossomed and wilted away.
Meet at the corner.
So he did. He walked down the block, where only two weeks ago there was a thin blanket of snow covering it. That was where she told him to make the cupcakes and that they would meet at the corner. In two weeks! Because she was away for two weeks. How anxious and impatient he had felt during those two weeks. He had lost a lot of sleep. He even rehearsed the recipe first, giving most of the cupcakes away to friends and family, who thought it was really odd of him to be making cupcakes, but didn't complain as they were at least decent. Two weeks after she had told him her request on their snowy walk down this very street, he was prepared. She had returned from her trip and reminded him that it would be two weeks in a few days. He was very nonchalant in his response but deep down his heart was racing, very happy that it wasn't just some impulsive demand that really reflected nothing substantial.
Here, at the corner of Greenburg and Lexington, a quiet place where few cars pass, the corner of two streets lined with old Victorian style houses with a small strip of green land around each. Facing him as he stood at the corner was a big red house with gray roof tiles. The house was most red on its doors, but the facade was of a grayish red too. He had seen very often the old lady that lived on the first floor of the big house. She had this little dog that she walked every morning, but he saw her and that dog when he started out to work and saw only their return. He wondered what the woman was doing now. But the time was passing and have passed the hour they were supposed to meet. The slight hint of green of the street momentarily distracted him. Spring was a time to make people feel hopeful, that new things would happen. So he gave himself a boost of energy to wait.
From the corner of his right eye he could see her coming. His heart started racing at incredible speeds. He pretended not to see her coming. In fact, he looked in the direction away from her, pretending to observe the yellow house with blue doors. By now he could hear her steps. She actually came! What did this mean? He couldn't contain himself and he nearly dropped the cupcakes.
Her voice called out and he turned and pretended to look surprised. He could smell her perfume before he could get a hug from her, a hug he wanted to stay longer than it did but it was longer than he had hoped for.
"So those are for me?" she asked innocently, also pretending, like him, to be lacking of emotions.
