“Good morning, world!”

Celine twirled into the café with two paper bags dangling from her hands like trophies. “Breakfast, my loyal minions!” she declared.

Marites groaned from behind the counter. “Celine, you bought doughnuts again. We literally sell pastries here. Pastries!”

“Correction,” Celine said grandly, holding up the bag like a sacred offering, “we sell sad little muffins. These—” she shook the bag “—are sugary circles of happiness. Bow before their ...