I glanced out the window. There was a woman sprawled in the street. Dialing 911 as I rushed outside, I knelt beside her. She was awake, but groaning. A pan of what looked like lemon cake lay spilled beside her.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“My ankle,” she said. She looked around. “No, not my cake, too.”
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “lemon cake.”