She stared down at the fork whilst she awaited all that was good in this world to come to her- Saffron Butter Cake. "Just give me this", she murmured, trying to stave off the feeling of being utterly trapped. She wished for the world itself to slow it's turning- at least until she had that maudlin taste of golden serenity.
Her gaze moved to the women around her- people who looked so happy, seemed so beautiful, and so perfect. And she watched them disappear around the bend. She caressed the steel and the tines, then the snowy porcalin which contained that bottomless dark roast. "What is around that edge of bricks?", She whispered to the morning gusts of wind.
Then her palm, which was too cynical for any fortune teller to read, found the cold varnish of the wood table and relaxed the countless bones in her hand. Her nostrils opened and closed adrift in the sublime waft of the fragrant roast, falling through the depths of it's darkness.
And that saffron cake of anticipation was no where near her mind. Something was coming- just around the bend.
She was oblivious to this at the time but- now
...She oft remembers back to this hard moment, with a fondness, as The Beginning...