Like a druggie during a withdrawal phase, we were paranoid and anxious, our hearts were racing, delirium by the very thought that what if, just what if they ran out of it? What if another Mille Crepophile just walks in and, “Give me all you have.” What’s to happen to us? Driving away after all that frenzy, with empty hands and stomach; lost, hurt and rage of frustration, not knowing elsewhere that enables... 3 unstable women, and with all that ferocity, we could have hurt someone. Not good.
In throes of madness, one of us was smart enough to still think. Jiji suggested we call up the place. A phone call was made. To reserve 3 slices of deliciousness to the woman on the end of the line, who must have thought we were very desperate. Obviously. But our desperation is well reasoned, you see, as there were only 6 pieces left, and the shop was closing in 20 minutes. That damn call saved our soul. Hope restored.
Arrived, at last. “The recently reserved 3 slices, please.” For the first 10 minutes, moans and groans at our table, almost like Sally’s, only not faked. Thank god there were no children. We had no shame. Spoonful after spoonful of tender layers of cream and crepes (thin to perfection) separating blissfully by movement of the tongue, awakening the gustatory calculi, sigh... ecstasy.
We were tranquillized and seemingly sane again.