Florence Jenkins

I stare at the cupcake in the window. The brown flake looks like a little train coming out of a tunnel. The smooth, creamy icing swirls over the flake making the tunnel. There are two men waving sticks. I imagined them to be telling the train to stop so it didn't go over the edge. I wish someone had done that to me. Told me to stop before I ran over the edge. I as soon as I  ran over the edge my whole life fell apart. I lost my home, my parents and my best friend. My only friend.