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I’m sitting in Cake Man Raven in Brooklyn eating a $7 slice of red velvet cake. I try to eat slowly, savoring every bite, but it’s too rich, delicious, delectable. I gobble. I scarf. I lick the plate. I don’t care what people think. I order another slice.
On my last birthday, a friend suggested it. “Go, they’ll give you a free slice of the best cake you’ll ever taste.”
Now I can’t stop. I’ve gained forty pounds. I waddle. It takes all my willpower to walk for the door.
The baker smiles at me. He knows I’m coming back.