Full stop or no full stop? A full stop always looks decisive and commanding, but it can also look more cool and casual if you just leave the sentence hanging there, like, Oh I’m so busy in my dazzling life I don’t even have time to punctuate. The squalid truth is I over-punctuate when I’m stressed/excited. I can go four exclamation marks on a good/bad day. Exclamation marks are the people-pleaser’s punctuation of choice. It makes us seem eager and pliable. Excited to talk to you! You!!!! I always notice other people’s punctuation. When someone sends me a message with no exclamation marks or kisses, I respect them. I also think: are they depressed? Did I do something to offend them?

Sometimes, I see people using whole rows of emojis, and I just want to hold them.

PASTRIES

Perfect.

Yes, I think that probably says it all.

Hm.

Is it enough, though, really?

Oh god. I just. Don’t. Know.

‘Can I help you?’

I look up in fright. It is my turn at the counter.

‘Uh …’

I look at the croissants on the rough stone plinth. I see now that there is a problem. I’m pretty sure – and I am very observant – that one of them is from yesterday. It looks stiffer than the rest, the way it’s hunched at the front, like it’s all uptight. It is a decidedly different texture and colour to the rest. I don’t know whether this suggests age, or some kind of bacterial contamination, or what. How did I miss this? I know that I am definitely going to get that croissant if I ask for a croissant.

I am paralysed. I do not know what to do. I do not feel able to ask for a specific croissant, although I certainly feel I deserve one. I do a quick calculation. There are eight croissants there and the defective one is on my side rather than the server’s, so really it’s unlikely I’ll get lumped with it. I exhale. I decide to go for it. I need this experience, to fulfil my … planned experience.

I speak. ‘One croissant, please.’

The server nods, but then for some reason known only to herself, goes to take the CROISSANT OF CALAMITY from the front. I shout: ‘Oh, hey! Excuse me! Could I please not have that croissant?’

I say it with fear and also with absolute rectitude.

The server’s tongs twitch. She says, slowly: ‘They’re … all the same.’

I say: ‘Could I just have one from the back please? Thank you!’

Everyone is looking at me.

She speaks slower still, as though I am an idiot. ‘But … they are all the same.’

‘That one is a slightly different hue, I believe,’ I say, quieter.