There was always something about cake stores. Perhaps it was the simple elegance that it so easily embedded or perhaps, it was its ability to make one feel like they had stepped into a wonderland made entirely of pastries and everything sweet. King Jamal could picture little children with mouths wide open in awe looking into the store and pleading with their parents to get them some of the sweets and cakes that lined the shelves.
He had walked into the place wearing his most regular clothes as he liked to call them. This was not one of those meetings that called for immediate noticeable clothing. His driver had parked his newest addition to his Mercedez car collection a few blocks down and Jamal had decided to walk the rest of the way.
