Ginger reached out his hard baked hands and caressed Cookie’s soft, doughy face.
“They’ll never separate us. Let’s grow stale together.”
“It’s not right Ginger,” she replied, her icing creased into a frown. “Don’t do this.”
The watching tin soldiers jeered at this, but Ginger silenced them with a glare.
“It’s for your own good, my love. Bake ‘em away toys.”
The soldiers slammed the oven door, muffling her screams. Cookie needed hardening up.
Image from this blog post.
Writing In The Balance 