oh corbo’s bakery. you make the air smell sticky and sweet. you put cassata cake in your window. you make lemon bars that remind me of the best lemon bars i’ve ever eaten (which, coincidentally, happen to be the lemon bars that you make, corbo’s bakery).

our first night in cleveland we had an empty pantry, not much money, and grumbly stomachs. we searched the couch crevices and poured out wallets, finding about three dollars in change. we trundled out in the humid july, swimming through the air down murray hill to the heart of little italy. and there was corbo’s bakery. we went inside. oh the air was sweet sweet sweet. we took our change and bought one cannoli: we took our one cannoli and walked to the corner to sit on a picnic bench at tony brush park. we felt the sun set, we watched the people come and go, we split that cannoli between us and each took a bite. it was surreal. it was the most delicious thing i’d ever eaten. it was like heaven beaten into ricotta cheese and sprinkled with chocolate chips. it suspended time. it made me feel that no matter how difficult it had been to move across the country, at least there was This. at least there was Cannoli.