The ghost Aunt and the white Cake

"My aunt was sitting right at my kitchen table, rummaging through her old handbag without looking up, even though she passed away a couple of years ago. While I stood behind her pretending to talk on the phone, I quietly reached over and snatched a couple of bites of her white cake, watching her get all flustered as she tried to hide what she was doing. I slipped into the bedroom where another white cake was sitting on the dresser and took a few more bites, but the creak of her footsteps coming down the carpeted hallway made my chest tighten. Knowing she’d be upset with me, I hurried past her in the narrow corridor, grabbed my shoes from the rug, and ducked out the front door, calling out that I was sorry and loved her just as the wooden door clicked shut, leaving me standing in the chilly morning air with a heavy ache in my chest."