February 14, 1913
My mood is dark. Visited the café seeking pancakes. Rather, I was treated to a byzantine host of options: Whole wheat or regular? Flapjack or silver dollar? Syrup smiley and strawberry eyes, or bacon smiley and sausage eyes?

Trapped in this web of breakfast bureaucracy, I froze. Retreated in frustration and shame.

(Possible story title: “Flummoxed Franz and the Pancake Caper.” Damn fine.)

(Franz Kafka’s notes)