The Daily Post prompt asks me to describe myself as a sandwich. Uh, not today folks. Sandwiches only truly taste best when someone else has made them. Best of all when made for you by someone who loves you (or wants you to love them). Freshest of soft breads, usually right from the bakery (on the way home from a lovely market ‘date’ – the bakery close to the short little person with the open-air flower shop where tulips/roses/mixed bouquet/insert your favourite flowers were bought to adorn the table). Carefully sliced things layered carefully between the outside slices. Given to you on your favourite plate or the unchipped plate, depending on the level of love or attraction.
Imagine someone taking the time to make a sandwich for you, just because you are loved?