All the roofs, houses, and days were the same. Born into a cookie cutter haven, Lily Tinkham was destined to be a bland sugar cookie like all the other inhabitants, but she strived for more. She strived to be different, like a cookie that magically transforms with just a bit of sprinkles and icing. The cookie that one would pick up and devour at first sight. Her drab community was adverse to such change, to such variety.
The only time she ever truly felt at ease was when she’d walk the roofs of her neighborhood, since peering eyes were blind at night with the closing of shutters. On the tiles and slats she’d roam and perch, looking at the stars above and dreaming of lemon meringue, Turkish delight, and other exotic, frilly sweets.
