Lines of chouquettes filled with a mini rainbow of custards with fresh cut fruits met our customers today in our showcase. They were delicate, having to cool completely when out of the oven so they wouldn't collapse before being filled. They were a bit like my emotions lately, a reflection of their baker. Yesterday, I hadn't been able to make much of anything, but today they were the equivalent of my heart on my sleeve. Small and sweet, but vulnerable and delicate. 

Nikki had come and sat and ate a flight of them for breakfast, three of each of the three kinds. They were my standard of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry custard filled. Comfortable and familiar flavors. He ate them silently, reflecting himself. I didn't disturb him. It was a new day, and no doubt he had a hangover that he could no longer handle in his mid-thirties. He often told me about these, but he suffered them no matter how bad they were. He'd read a newspaper while slowly eating, an old one left by a customer. I'd spied him reading about what had happened at Zombie Walk. It was such a small article compared to how we felt.

There'd been no report of Charlotte's movie theater closing at all. There most likely would be one in the Rainbow Edition, and it seemed it was the only paper that cared. It seemed so insignificant, like every newspaper should be reporting on it. But, it was only important to us. It devastated me. 

People came and went. Some lingered, getting refills of coffee for a couple of hours. It hit me that many of our regulars are older. I hadn't thought of that really before. They were just people to me, regardless of age. But, if I thought about it, maybe they could afford to sit here due to not having to work, or less responsibilities. Many had told me before that they liked the music we played, all of my favorite French chanson, because it reminded them of an era gone by. It had been popular in Japan before my time, they said. 

I'd eventually sat down at Gyeong-Wan's usual table and ate a chouquette with chocolate custard and strawberries. The strawberries made me think of cakes with many cut fruit pieces on them. A basket full of fruit flavors. Comforting flavors. It was all about comfort now. Everyone was quieter today. They knew what was happening to our community, from these past few days. We all needed the familiar, something to hang on to. It made me want to make a cake with light frosting, an effect like bark. Not too sweet, but that needed hint of sweetness. So many fruits could be on top and inside. Blueberries, raspberries, blackberries. Strawberries, peaches, kiwi. A true rainbow of colors. A rainbow cake, for our rainbow community. 

The image of the rainbow flag being ripped from that person's shoulders during Zombie Walk. How much the colors of these fruits reminded me of that flag. But really, no one can really take your colors from you, because they are inside. They can try. They can take the symbol of who you are, but they can't take who you are. The world might not care, but those colors are always inside no matter what. You might hate them sometimes, you might love them sometimes. But they just...are. 

In no time, I was sketching the cake on a napkin. Thinking about the ingredients, the cream. Making a recipe for our community. My own protest. My own anger about everything coming out. Charlotte not getting enough support since we'd all had to disperse, so she had to leave. All those people at Zombie Walk screaming, all that chaos. I'd had enough. 

In the end, I came up with a cake of many different kinds. There were many cakes that could wear this rainbow coat. There could be a chocolate cake inside, with the same white cream on the outside and many colors of fruits on top and between the layers inside. There could be a vanilla cake, or a strawberry cake, coffee or carrot. It made me think, it didn't matter who you are on the inside, you can still wear your colors with pride. 

I picked up my napkin, smiling to myself. Studying the picture I'd drawn of the design. It made me think of Gyeong-Wan, who'd told me about his colors. It would be a cake that could encourage him, but it might encourage so many others. I'd type up a card about the cake, explaining the meaning. These mini cakes. They might be my best idea yet. 

In the afternoon, Gyeong-Wan came inside wordlessly. He sat down at his usual table, in the seat I'd vacated hours earlier. He took off his scarf, then carefully took off his coat. He sat there, not greeting any of us. 

I went over and filled his coffee cup. I put in many sugar cubes, as he liked it, and half-and-halfs. This formula would cover the coffee taste absolutely. It made me wonder if he didn't like the taste of coffee. He sipped it silently, staring into space, his eyes on the table. I sat with him, and he sat there, too, thinking to himself in heavy thought. 

Slowly, after a while, I traced his fingers on the table. This led to me rubbing his hand with my fingers. He watched this with interest. He was so different today. Had something happened? It scared me a little, but I wanted to try. In no way was I scared of him, but something was wrong. 

I was about to interlace my fingers with his, when he finally spoke.

"Can I have something chocolate?" He asked. 

He didn't have to ask me twice. I had six chocolate custard chouquettes waiting for him in my kitchen. I was worried they'd sell out before he got here, and they almost had. I raised my finger in the air, smiling for him. This got a small smile back, and it warmed my heart. Finally, a smile. 

I brought these to him on a long, but small rectangular plate. It was our flight plate. We had a few different kinds of plates and bowls, but this one was special. We didn't often use them. I'd use this one for him, hopefully making him feel special. 

I set it down before him, the chouquettes cheerful. As hoped for, his eyes brightened. I didn't know what he was upset about, but like a child he was excited about this. He picked one up, examining it. 

"What is this called?" He asked, experimentally. 

"A chouquette," I explained. "It's a common French pastry. More of a snack. That's why there's six of them."

"It's so tiny," he smiled to me. The feeling in my heart made me grip my apron under the table. 

"Will they be enough?" Worry. "I can get more. Or, if you're hungry, we can order something." My hand went to my chest, to calm my heart. I wanted to know why he was upset. Was it for the same reasons as me, or something else? I wanted to take him somewhere and ask.

"No, this is perfect. Thank you. All day, I was thinking about you and it made me happy-" He stopped himself, his eyes going wide as he stared at the chouquette. He quickly popped it into his mouth, and the edges of his eyes softened at the taste. He let out a slow noise of contentment.

"You were thinking of me?" I breathed, my grip on my apron easing. 

He nodded. "All day." He was still chewing. "It wasn't a good day at work."

He'd hardly spoken of work before. It seemed to be all I knew about him, but I realized I didn't know much about it. The intricacies about his day. It was a mystery. I wanted to know more. 

"Were there Karens?" I settled my elbows on the table, cradling my face in my hands. His expression softened more at this, that smile there growing. 

He shook his head and swallowed the pastry smoothly. "Not really. Not many complaints. But, it's more...hmmm..." He thought for a moment and I was patient. "It's more the people I work with. I don't know if I want to talk about it. It's not worth talking about."

I let out a little gasp. He was curious at this. "It's definitely worth talking about. I want to know more about your work."

His smile grew into a grin, and there was chocolate custard on his teeth. Adorable. But, so soon, he wasn't smiling. He shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it today, if that's okay." So gentle. 

"Did something happen?" He was acting so strange. Even yesterday, he'd freely spoken to us about some new guests who were causing trouble. "Is it those new guests? Or, no...you said it's people you work with."

He gave me a further pleased expression. He sighed deeply, picking up another chouquette. This one was overflowing with custard. "It makes me feel better that you want to know about it so much. That you're paying attention. That's all I need. I think it's better not to talk about all of the negativity at my work." He popped it into his mouth, that small smile back, loving the flavor of it.

"Well, okay. But..." That gnawing of wanting to take him somewhere more private. If we were somewhere more private, would he talk to me about it? But, where could we go that was that private? A place of safety. 

His hand reached out and touched mine, and I was butter. He brought his face a few inches closer to mine, but still far away. His eyes went bigger, his eyebrows raising. An expression I'd never seen on him. It made my heart melt immediately. My delicate, chouquette heart collapsing, because it was too warm. His fingers interlaced with mine, like how I'd wanted earlier. 

"It's okay," he said in a hushed tone, assuring. Comforting me instead. 

"Okay," I repeated back to him, satisfied for now. But, only for now.

He settled back, but our hands were still together. He continued eating and I watched him enjoy what I'd made. He was quieter than usual, but that was okay. He was safe here with me, no matter what it was. As long as he was here, nothing could happen to him, and that brought me the most enormous comfort of all.