The Sip That Sparkled — Behind the sugar tin, where the air smelled like toast and nutmeg, Junie rocked on her saucer. She wanted one cinnamon curl for the top of her cozy drink. Read the full story →
Behind the sugar tin, where the air smelled like toast and nutmeg, Junie rocked on her saucer. She wanted one cinnamon curl for the top of her cozy drink. The jar was just past the napkin stack, so she scooted out—clink, clink, clink—and bumped the striped straw.
A sprinkle bounced into her cream. Then another. “Psst,” whispered Junie, “did you see that?” Inside the straw, where nobody ever peeked, waited a whole tunnel of starry sprinkles. She had to give up her neat little spot; cream dripped down her side, warm and sticky.
Junie came back without a cinnamon curl, but with enough sprinkles for every cup on the shelf. The café filled with tiny cheers, and if you peek at her whipped-cream top, you might spot the secret that started with one clink behind the sugar tin.
