“Rocking braided pigtails, she passed me a small pack of pineapple cake, it was the first time I saw this heavenly creation. ‘Where did you get this?’ I asked. ‘Stoled it from home, was meant to be sacrificial offering food for my ancestors.’ she said, with the faintest whisper of a laugh. She went on to her ballet rehearsal. It was the last day of summer, I never saw her again ever since. Some said she moved out of town with her family, some speculated other things, but to me, she seemed to have turned into a spirit which inhibits the little pineapple cake she gave me, or every pineapple cake I ever encounter as it reminds me of her every time I see one.”