Philocalist (noun): someone who finds beauty in life

“If you didn’t want your face beaten into a pulp, you shouldn’t have messed with my gang.”

Raising a tattooed fist, he slammed his opponent into the ground.

The other guy was already a miserable heap. “I… I won’t touch them again, I swear…”

“Yeah. You better not.” Throwing one last glare over his shoulder, he stormed away.

~~~~~

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“Hi President!” A girl chirped.

He walked into the room with a smile, ignoring the pain in his right fist. “Hey! Is everyone here?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve already started mixing the eggs!”

“Hahaha, don’t forget the salt! We don’t wanna bake that train wreck of a cake again, do we?”

The girl slapped him with an apron. “That joke is so old! Now put this on and tie your hair up! Do you really think that gangster look is trendy?”

A good natured chuckle escaped from his throat. Obediently tidying up his appearance, he gently joined the cooking club’s baking frenzy.

The pain lingering on his hand seemed to subside as he relished the warm atmosphere of pastries and sweets.