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// The Hermit Crab 
// Story: My Special Muffin 
// by Neutralbrony 
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The watch showed 20 minutes of elapsed time into my jog as I was closing in on the preset destination. My cheeks felt so wet and cold to the touch of my fingertips. The hairs on my legs were combed sideways from the wind's brush as I slowed to a fast walking pace, licking the water around my moist lips and heavy breath. The charred front entrance of the crisp bakery was right in front of me. I doubled checked to make sure no one was around since it might be considered trespassing.

When I stepped inside, the floor was surprisingly still intact and decent looking, if you didn’t count the broken glass and wet debris lying around. It felt like a sort of calm and soothing aura all around me, for the most part at least. All around, the floor had dust and dirt spread evenly on the surface, which was when I noticed something about it. There were markings in the dust that appeared to look like animal tracks, but something about them wasn’t quite right.

The way they were spread out gave an impersonation of a cat, but it was the tracks themselves that threw me off. They didn’t exactly show any characteristics of any small animal I’d ever known that embedded a small oval shaped marking about the size of a tennis ball. The closest thing that came to mind was either a tiny elephant or that maybe some kids had tied some shopping bags to a cat’s legs as a practical joke. 

What's even more strange was how the tracks just seemed to circle to the front counter and then around the side back behind the counter to the door where they had originated. Across the back wall to the left of the register counter were half a dozen empty bran muffin boxes with one box still sealed. 

My first thought was to get a free box of muffins, with a spring in my arms to go lift it up, but reluctant only to find a chewed out hole along the corner and a trail of muffin crumbs leading further back into the store. That’s when I heard it; a soft rustling sound coming from what I assume would be the kitchen area. Was I not alone? Curiosity would always get the better of me as I softly advanced my sneakers around the counter.

Just as I took my first step through the door, there it was again; a soft disturbance of rummage in some corner. My ears weren't able to tell at first if it was just the wind dancing with some newspaper article or if something living was inside. It became darker and colder the further I went in, with the only light source available coming from the standing cloudy daylight by the door and the few white patches in the roof I assume were due to fire damage. 

I could hear the movement coming from an old fashion stone and brick oven, but nothing in the room could assist me to see what might be breathing in there. The lights wouldn't turn on and there didn't seem to be any near-by windows.

Moving closer towards the sound of the disturbance, I saw more and more twitches in the oven. When my body was no more than 3 feet away, there was a sudden jump inside the oven, which made me flinch a little too but didn’t convince me enough to be scared. With the assistance of the glow coming from the brick chimney above the oven, I could make out what appeared to be some small cat sized animal hiding underneath old newspapers and a table cloth. From the shivering cold body, it looked so startled and possibly even frail.

Once my eyes were fully adjusted, I could now see that there was in fact something rustling under the covers with the help of the chimney light shining dully on the cat-sized lump. My heart rate stayed above normal levels and my inner soft ego tempted me to reach out and try to touch it and instinctively raised my hand. I really wanted to know just what was under there, but then froze stiff when my hand reached out just an inch away to touch the cloth. All I could see was the accelerated nervous shaking, curled up and scared. It was almost unbearable to see, because I could tell then and there just how terrified it must’ve been. Slowly and quietly backing off, I did not want to seem like more of a threat to the little thing.

Planting a seat on the floor against the wall near the doorway, I would instead wait to see if he or she would want to poke its head out. It was vague luck but I had nothing better to do with my time. Letting the battery acid in my veins settle and tight muscles relax, I stared blankly around the corners of the kitchen. 

It felt like an empty seashell in there, except for the one peculiar area. To my left preferal vision, more than a dozen muffin wrappers were littered all over the ground near the stove. It occurred to me that this was indeed a smart creature, who knew how to eat in such a notional matter that it actually surprised me. I can’t honestly say I’ve ever come across an animal with a degree of manners.

I always remember mom bringing me a muffin after kindergarten school, sometimes even with a glass of milk. On cold days like today, she’d substitute the milk with hot chocolate. The sensation of food dreaming made me hungry at that moment. My legs made without haste to see if there were any of those muffins left in that one box. The Hanson and Gretel trail lead me back to the chewed open box as I carefully placed it on the table and lifted the tape off the lid. No luck what-so-ever.

With a soft sigh, I wiped the sweat off my brow before walking back into the seashell. Upon re-entering however, I froze in sight of something by the oven. Something did in fact come forward as I could see a few locks of hair sticking out the corner of the oven, but still unable to fully make out just what it was. I may be mistaken, but I could’ve sworn I saw blonde hair, kind of like mine but with more maple autumn maple leaf yellow to it. I’m sure we were both just as curious about each other.