RP Post: Little Pizza Snacks

Cassidy stood on the tall kitchen stool like a little statue—bare feet planted, knees locked. All around her, the house swelled with motion: the zip of bags, the clatter of drawers, voices that bumped into each other mid-sentence. Boots squeaked on the floor. A box dropped somewhere down the hall. The air buzzed like a beehive kicked too close to morning.

But on the counter in front of her, there was calm.

A warm cardboard box, lined with golden circles of mini bagel pizzas, their edges crisp and bubbling, the little square pepperonis curling like red confetti. Cassidy didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She had one pizza bite in her right hand and another already pressed to her mouth. The cheese stretched when she took a bite—soft and salty, like it had melted just for her. The tomato sauce was sweet and tangy, the bagel base chewy under her teeth, toasted just enough to taste like something bigger than bread.

She focused hard, quiet as a mouse but steadier somehow. She counted flavors in her head the way other kids might count clouds—pepperoni, cheese, sauce, warm crust. Again. And again. The flavor was strong, louder than the voices around her, louder even than the banging cabinet doors. It filled her mouth like headphones for her tongue.

Behind her, the house spun with movement—Uncle Kiel walking past with an armful of clinking jars, Momma calling something down the hallway—but Cassidy stayed still. As still as her little hands would let her. The world was a little too much right now, but she had her pizza bagels, and that was enough.

For now, her only job was to taste. And stand.