Ellen

twirls down the stairs, carrying a tray of

crossants, her

cropped, silky blond hair and

diamond-blue eyes shining.

She's like the

Ellen DeGenres

of baking. She has the same first name after

all. Same eyes. But her

hair is softer and prettier, and she is

younger.

She is dressed in a black and white

dress, with a wide

skirt, button-up top like an anime character.

Me, a character.

Her

eyes sparkle as she walks

into her bakery, from

her apartment upstairs.

Her employees

Ryan and Liza, are standing there, behind the counter, their

reflections shining on the

surface of the

granite countertop

together

faces too close

like a

mirror

mirror

mirror

to their souls.

They're in love, and

Ellen knows it.

I know it.

Customers come pouring in like

a flood, Ryan giggling

as Liza hands him a paper bag, for some old cat-loving lady's

muffins, as

their hands

touch.

Ellen sighs.

She has no lover.

Have no lover.

A couple comes strolling in,

newlyweds,

Ellen can tell by their rings,

their smiles, their

ways their

eyes their

love comes pouring off of them.

Ellen sighs again,

her lovely face forming a slight frown.

Why won't he ever

love her?

Love me?

She

gives them their coffee, the lady's cinnamon-colored

hair and coffee-brown eyes

reflected

in her beverage.

The beverage they share.

Shares with me.

By noontime,

everyone is coming in

for their lunch-break bagels.

These people

are too devoted to just pick up a dry everything from

Dunkin'.

It used to have donuts in its

name.

Nowadays, simple is better.

But not for Ellen.

For me, for me.

Meanwhile, on

the other side of town, Joseph,

a round man wit a brown beard and warm hazel eyes like tea leaves

swirling in a cup, about

to tell your fortune.

Your future holds love, why not mine?

He walks away form his coffeeshop, going to get a

bagel, from the lady at the place

across the street.

"Ellen's Sweet Treats," he

reads,

muses,

alive, alive, alive until he remembers

Vivianne,

leaving him.

She was the love of his life, he thought.

She thought

differently. She'd left Joseph. Now he was alone, looking into an

empty window, sleeping in an empty bed, speaking

empty words.

My empty, empty words.

Joseph enters Ellen's

Sweet Treats. he waits in line, looking at the lovers. Only a few

customers over ten are

single.

Those fourteen-year-old-kids

are together, obviously in love,

and over there, a boy hardly old enough to drive is with a girl;

she smiles at him.

Only a twenty-two-year-old girl with black hair,

frowning at her laptop as she writes, dressed

in black, obviously a goth,

and a young man drinking coffee

are alone.

Elderly couples

and teenage crushes and their crush-ees

are all in here.

Here, here.

Joseph's eyes meet Ellen's.

The lady behind the counter sees him, her

gaze never breaking,

eyes as sharp as the eyes of that girl

in that email ad for the Netflix show The Queen's Gambit,

which Joseph didn't watch.

He looks at his phone.

The wallpaper is a picture of Vivian...

Vivian and him, at a beach, him in a button-up blue shirt, her

in a cranberry-red bikini, dark hair blown in the sea breezes. Her

sunglasses

sit upon her head like a crown.

Joseph puts his phone away.

He'll change that picture someday.

Or never look

at his phone again.

Never look at my phone again.

That song by Elvis, Can't Help Falling in Love With You, by

that girl

Ingrid Michaelson,

plays, slow and

satisfying.

It is, clearly, a

love song.

Ellen regrets her playlist choices and blushes.

Joseph looks at he girl behind the counter.

"I can't... help... fall-ing in love with... you..." Ingrid sings.

Falling in love with you.

ANNUAL BAKE SHOP/COFFEE SHOP

COMPETITION!

Says the flyer

stapled to a nearby telephone pole, more metal

than wood from all the staples and

pins there.

Joseph sees it.

Ellen see it.

They join.

We joined, see how happy...

The competition

is on.

It's war, only instead of freedom and rights and power, they're battling

for cupcake, cookie, and coffee domination.

World domination.

Or town-wide.

The town of Everfair, Oregon,

is always perfect, and

isolated.

Known for its small communities,

a girl named Emilia Watt had arrived

to get some small-town experience.

She

spent every spare second typing away, in Ellen's coffeeshop and

sweets shop.

Sometimes she got a coffee from Joseph's though.

Her star-crossed

lovers story was not going well.

So she looked around.

Everyone was in love. Everyone but her.

But me.

Joseph and Ellen were

trying to be perfect.

This bit gets sped up, because

I am not writing a poem on how to brew the perfect coffee,

of how to

get your shop perfect for the judges.

let's just say

that they

did.

I did.

On the day of

judging, judges

disguised as ordinary customers would come in,

sample everything, and

see how they liked the

decor and the staff and the coffeeshop vibes.

After that, they all go to the

town square, and see who has won.

First prize: Ellen's Sweet Treats, for

vibe, flavors, and kindness.

And decor.

Can't forget the

ascetics.

Joseph stares at Ellen,

her beautiful face,

her elegant movements,

the sound of her voice-- sweet

and melodic.

Maybe he could give love another chance.

Another chance.

Ellen looked at Joseph. He was her

rival, but he was a nice man.

Maybe

she could try out this "love".

My love.

Ellen

approaches Joseph with a

gift.

My gift.

Joseph

approaches Ellen

with a smile.

His smile...

They meet.

"Chocolate Kiss Eclair?"

Ellen

offers.

Joseph takes it.

He tries a bite at the

same time Ellen goes for it.

The laugh

when their heads bump.

They try to eat the eclair from

both ends. Their eyes

sparkle like diamonds.

The diamond he gave me.

They stand there, faces so close

from eating

the eclair from Bothe ends, it brought them closer.

Closer.

Closer

closer

closer

closer

c l o s e r...

Closer to him, to you, to

me.

They kiss.

We kissed.

They are.

we were.

They will become.

We have become.

Ellen is my mother.

Joseph is my father.

Emilia is my best friend, even though she's twenty years

older than I.

I am Chocolate, their

daughter.

Named for the thing that brought

them together.

Us together.

Me together.

We together.

Love together.

Someday, my love,

I will come for you.

And we will be together

until

We

Fall.

--Chocolate Eclair Abbot.