(If you don't like the ship, scroll away.)
In the top gondola of La Manchaland's ferris wheel, Bari and Don Quixote sat, watching the sun set over the land.
"I brought you something new. Not a story this time." Bari told him, gaining his attention. His focus stuck to her with enthralling intensity. Maybe it was his eyes, maybe it was their closeness.
"What is it? It smells sweet."
"This is what modern cake looks like."
He chuckled fondly. "My friend, this is no such thing. It has so much pigment to it and smells of much more sugar than I recall."
"Just try it." Bari insisted, opening the small plastic container and holding it up to his face.
"Only a bite wouldn't hurt..." He shrugged.
The now empty box sat on the floor near their boots, Don's coat draped over them both like a blanket.
"You witch." He pouted. "I ate the entire thing. What have you done to my restraint?"
She laughed and leaned on his shoulder. "I just happen to be the best baker in the world."
"A mighty claim," he sighed. "And yet another thing I must learn to do in order to keep up with you." Bari smiled. "I'll teach you some time."
Bari sat up, and he turned to look at her. "What's wrong?"
She kissed him gently before pulling back. "Frosting."
He frowned. "Well, now it's on you!"
She laughed. "Then shouldn't you kiss it off? It's not very gentlemanly to leave a poor woman hanging."
He scoffed, but his smile betrayed his fondness. And he leaned down to kiss her back just as a firework blew open nearby in golds and pinks.
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