Her Donut Shifters
Check Prices Before You Buy
This site is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.
He hands me a powdered donut hole—a small, bite-sized treat that tastes better than it sounds—and I pop it in my mouth.
That’s all I have, while my two best friends scarf down five full-sized donuts. Each.
“I still think it’s cannibalism, man,” I tell York as he bites into a jelly donut.
He snorts and powdered sugar shoots out his nose. That causes him to laugh even harder, and that’s when he shifts. It always happens when he finds something hilarious, and I’m up to the challenge.
York’s half-finished jelly donut lands neatly on his plate, while a second jelly donut—this one fully formed—glares up at me from his chair.
Because donuts can glare on the inside. Brooks, the sympathetic shifter, shifts too. A lump of dough tumbles off his chair and onto the floor. Good thing he already finished his cinnamon twist.
I lounge back in my chair with a triumphant grin just as the bakery’s back door suddenly flies open. It crashes into the wall, startling me, and then I shift, too.
Karma is a bitch.