Tea & Marzipan

She really didn’t know what she was doing there; she barely even knew how she’d gotten there. One minute she was on the bus going uptown, and the next she was outside the shop, staring into the window. It took her a while to focus and recognize the items on display. It was a sweet shop, and the window was full of marzipan fruit, all spilling out of a cornucopia, with autumn leaves scattered around, rather like a Thanksgiving centerpiece. She gazed at the tiny pears and oranges and found herself wondering when she last had tasted marzipan, when she last had even splurged on any sweet.
Anyone looking at her would see a slender woman, medium height, with shoulder length mousey brown hair, grey eyes (if they looked close enough) and wearing clothes that were older than last year’s fashion. They’d see nothing remarkable, nothing to set her apart enough to be noticed.
A gust of wind swept down the street, rustling the hem of her skirt that peaked out from beneath the thin coat she pulled tighter around her. She shivered a little, and then turned to walk the rest of the way to the office where she worked, quietly at a corner desk. She’d gotten off the bus only a few blocks early, the walk was short, though the wind as picking up and it seemed to blow her to the door of the office building, as though chiding her for stopping to look at frivolities.
The day passed quietly, it always did. Her job required little concentration, and she found her mind drifting. At eleven the office stopped work for a break and she stepped into the tiny kitchen are for a cup of tea. Everyone chipped in for elevenses. Her share was less than the others; she could only afford tea, not sugar or milk. She returned to her desk to sip her black tea while her thoughts turned back to the sweet shop.
It would be nice to be able to just step right into the shop and up to the counter. She’d announce her desire with authority and certainty, and request an assortment of the small marzipan fruits, and a straw cornucopia to display them in on her table.
Oh, she thought, a table. Her living quarters consisted of a rented room with a narrow bed, a three drawer dresser and a night table just large enough to hold the lamp on it. She would have to use her dresser top.
She smiled to herself as she sipped her tea, and the image of the cornucopia filled--- no overflowing--- with the marzipan fruit filled her with a happiness that was only complimented by the warmth of the tea.