The Scent of Fresh Pastries

It may come to your surprise that Juliet’s embrace of the slow life, finding enjoyment in the everyday, was less of a deliberate choice on her part and more of a change in perspective caused by one of those occasional curveballs life chose to throw her way. Prior to that, she wasn’t really attentive to her surroundings at all. Any activity that didn’t directly contribute to her goals in life, she deemed a waste of time — let alone something to derive pleasure from. 

Every waking moment was about extracting the most from each day. A mindset she rigidly held on to, failing to realize it was the very thing that gradually wore her down — like the summer she worked night shifts at the drive-through Downtown.

Juliet’s persistence eventually culminated in her developing a chronic leg injury that would haunt her for the better part of a year. Perhaps going for a run six times a week wasn’t as beneficial for her health as she had imagined. Now, even just a quick spurt to catch the tram would leave her legs burning for hours.

But as it turned out, being forced to shift down a gear had its silver lining after all. Having to stroll through life at a tortoise’s pace was like seeing the world with a fresh pair of eyes, making her cognizant of the many hidden gems her neighborhood had to offer. Never else would she have noticed a most fabulous French Bistro located just two blocks down the street. The curiosity of her nose lured by the mouthwatering scent of a freshly baked batch of pastries, drew Juliet into the inconspicuous-looking alleyway she must have passed by a dozen times if not more. A mere peak through the front window was enough for her to fall in love with the place, mesmerized by what she imagined a café in 18th century France might have looked like.

Juliet’s fondness grew even further the moment she stepped through the doorway and approached the counter, her gaze being met with a jam-packed display case full of baked goods and desserts. Her sweet tooth leaped for joy as she let her eyes wander over the appetizing landscape of pastries and pies and tarts and éclairs — including a colorful assortment of handmade croissants. Colorful not in the sense of being just your average brown-crusted piece of dough, but rather something that could be exhibited at a contemporary art fair. Her favorite being the one covered in strawberry glaze, topped with a handful of crushed frozen berries. A more-than-welcome snack to get her creative juices flowing. At least that’s how she chose to justify her purchase. What’s a little pastry gonna do, she mused. And maybe — but just maybe — a slice of apple pie. And perhaps an éclair to go, now that I’m already here.