The doorcruncher

I had a dream last night that I walked into a nice looking little coffee shop that sold huge muffins with odd flavour names like 'The Doorcruncher.' I went up to the counter, where a man and woman were talking. The man's cheeks were a tad sunken. He leaned over the counter, between two glass cases of massive muffins and looked straight at me and shook my hand.

"You're Erin," he said.

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

"You work here," he replied.

My job happened to be writing poems that were given to customers every time one of the muffins was sold. Who knew?