Cinnabon Bun from Chesapeake

by Ellie

It was finally Sunday.

I opened the car door, got in, and closed it.

"Ready for Chesapeake?" My mom asked.

"Yep!"

We drove into the shopping center(the one with Harris Teeter, Baskin Robbins, and Pie Tanza), and found a parking spot.

"Great luck! We got one right in front of Chesapeake Bagel Bakery!" I said.

"Yeah."

A squeaky noise emerged from the glass door, when we opened it.

"We're here!" My mom said excitedly. 

When we finally reached the front of the line, my mom had to order.

"What would you like?" My mom asked.

"Um..." I stared into the little window of treats. There were muffins, fruit assortments, cake, bread, cupcakes, cookies, donuts, and eclairs. "I guess I'll have a cinnamon roll. Thanks!"

"You're welcome. You deserve a treat." 

The lady looked impatient.

"Um, sorry about that. We'll have a plain bagel toasted with butter, and a cinnamon roll heated up."

"Okay, ma'am."

We made our way through the rest of the line, and payed for our things.

"Thanks, mom!"

"You're welcome."

We found a small booth in the store, and sat down.

I took the cinnamon roll out of its box, and stared at his glorious texture.

Brown cinnamon sped across its edges, and drizzled icing skated across its top. It smelled of my grandparents' house, when they made apple pie and chocolate  chip cookies.

I unrolled part of the cinnamon roll, cut it with my fork and knife, and took a bite.

Yum. I felt calm and warm. Its heat sunk into my gums and tongue. The taste was so brilliant. The cinnamon. The bread. Icing. More cinnamon. More icing. It was all just the right amount. Mmmm!

It repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated. Bite after bite, warmth after warmth, and yummy after yummy; until it had all disappeared into my now, warm throat.

So, now my routine is the same. One cinnamon roll heated up at Chesapeake Bagel Bakery, every Sunday.

I love cinnamon rolls.