Oh fruity cake, you are a vision of perfection. Would you kindly find your way to my house and woo your way into my belly? It won't take much, I swear.
I was always that jerk kid who dug out the whole strawberry stripe of the Neapolitan ice cream in the leaky cardboard box. I kind of miss those crappy boxes that were impossible to open without ripping the lid and you could never get them closed again and would inevitably end up with a puddle of freezer-burned nasty ice cream. Those were the days. Kids these days have it so easy.
Nothing says love like a heart shaped dessert delicately dusted with cocoa powder. Sadly, I fear cocoa powder as it seems inevitable that I will accidentally breathe some of it in when I take the first bite and then I'll cough all crazy and destroy everything. How I wish I could enjoy a dusted treat.