Pink, lumpy cake squished between the man’s rotting fingers. In an infantile manner, he mashed the dessert into his mouth. He groaned, allowing the cake to fall from his lipless face and onto the plate.
The cronish woman sitting across from him erupted into a piercing cackle that echoed throughout the empty cafe and into the night air. “Told you it wasn’t real brains!” She took a sip of her steaming coffee and immediately spat it out, partially spraying her undead acolyte.
“Take this away!” she hissed at the bewitched barista standing beside them. “Witch’s brew, my ass.”