By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

My university life was garbage. Except for that time of the day when I’d find myself in front of my favourite place, Café Pour Moi  — where heaven meets my mouth, where I’d get my little treat of choice, an éclair. That cream that oozed out as soon as you took a bite, the chocolate that crunched just enough, the treat that was carried by the most perfect vessel of pastry encasing a velvety soft egg custard. My éclair was the one perfect thing in my life. 

So, one day, after a morning of boring classes filled to the brim with boring people, I made my way over to the bakery, as usual. I was thinking about it all day. It was the only thing that kept me going. When I got there, there was a sign on the door. 

HEALTH CODE VIOLATION: PERMANENTLY CLOSED. 

Oh no. NO, no, no. This couldn’t be true. Not now. I felt faint. I heard a scream, and then — darkness. I came to, about two hours later, in the driving seat of a car I didn’t recognize. But I knew what I had done. I had stolen a car. Damnit. Don’t ask me how I know. I was a woman depraved. I was capable of many evils.

I thought to drive home in this car, but I realized too soon that there was no way I was going to get away with my crime. I parked the car on the side of the road and pushed it into a nearby ravine. I know — I’m super strong and a crook. What can I say? Without my one dependable, I was running on pure anger. 

The next day, I walked to class despite all the voices in my head telling me to give up. There were flyers pasted everywhere on campus. “HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAR?” they read. God, get a life. Some of us have real problems. 

I finished my morning classes and took one step towards the bakery — and stopped. My heart crumbled as I remembered my bitter reality. I fell apart like a day-old éclair tossed around in my backpack. But there are no more éclairs. No joy. Nothing good anymore. 

I started trying to think of things that could bring me back to life. Something that could provide me with even a fraction of the joy that my dear éclair would give me. I remembered I had a real fondness for a cat I had met once. It lived on the outskirts of Richmond, near the airport. I remembered something from a YouTube video I had seen. Lasers attract cats. I would drive over and find that cat if it was the last thing I did. 

So I drove over to Richmond, laser in hand. It was dark when I got there, and I didn’t really remember where I had met this cat. I wandered around with the laser, shining it here and there. I heard the loud whoosh of a plane taking off from the runway. I startled up and followed my laser on it. The plane lights flooded my vision and I felt faint. I heard a clamor of screams from above. My éclair was the last thing on my mind before I passed out.

I woke up in a jail cell, that’s how this story ends. Apparently, it’s a federal crime to shine lasers at pilots. The judge sentenced me to three years in prison. And prison? It’s shit. Turns out there’s no fucking éclairs in here either. How am I supposed to survive three years in this place? Life’s a tragedy.