You were proud to be something unique and different. In your heart of hearts, you knew that you were destined for something special - after all, your shape, texture, and key ingredients were different from everyone else you knew! You were not made from plain, boring old wheat flour.
When you were but a thought in your creator’s mind, you already knew that you would be a hit. Your golden-brown surface, glistening with the smile you so broadly displayed as you basked in the glory of the florescent lights gleaming on the bakery counter, would attract many, you felt.
But by the end of the day, even your baker forgot that you had existed. Many people walked past you to gaze at the more stunning creations that were displayed next to you - here a gorgeous multi-layered strawberry shortcake, there a unbelievably intricate stained-glass cake, and you name it.
So there you were, left all on your lonesome. Your brethren had been sold already, and you were the last piece of bread of your kind.
Alone you sat, into the wee hours of the morning. About halfway through, you began to feel very strange.
When the baker came in to take inventory and tidy up the shop, to both of your horrors, she let out a disgusted cry at the sight of you.
“Mold! Well, I guess this one can no longer be sold.”
With that, you were tossed away, and your wounds festered as the mold ate away at the fibers of your being, even as you lay dying, lonely and forgotten.
End of Day 2 (Zack was lynched)
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