I walk up to the Airstream trailer parked in the corner of the lot. There's a big black guy sitting in a folding chair outside. Maybe he's looking at his cell phone. Maybe he isn't. He's wearing a pink t-shirt, but I don't put it together until I go up to the window, and it's closed, and he looks at me like he's not sure which cupcakes I want yet. But I do. Because I already looked them up online. I want a white-on-white one, a chocolate-on-chocolate one, and a red velvet one. He says something like, You know what you want?, from the chair, and I look at the menu, and I say, I think so, which I am, pretty much. He gets up, gets in the trailer, puts the cupcakes I say I want in a box like a baker would use. He opens the window. We talk. His name is Vince. He has a big tattoo on his arm, but I can't remember what. Maybe it's the continent of Africa. He tells me he's an "urban hippie." Then he tells me something about hugs, but I can't remember what later. I tell him my name, we shake hands through the window of the trailer with the rotating giant cupcake on top, and I take my box of cupcakes and go home. At home, I see the frosting has gotten on the sides of the box some. I stick my finger into the frosting of the red velvet one. I stick it in my mouth. It tastes good.