It is with deep regrets that I write this letter of sincere apology for the heinous crime I committed all those years ago, of which my friends have never let me forget. On this fateful day, I was trying out a new recipe to create you with an oven that was unevenly heated, on a humid summer's day, a recipe for disaster. I had tried to smooth out the bumps on your heads with a fingertip wet with water as instructed by the recipe. But little did I know, water doesn't want to dry when the air is already humid. When you came out of the oven, there were cracks where the water did not dry, you were misshapen and not shiny. In my horror, my instinctual reaction was a gasp, and then gathering you up I tossed you into my compost bin.
I sincerely regret my choices. You were equally delicious even though you were not perfect. You deserved to be chewed up and swallowed, to be digested by stomach acid, your glucose molecules entering a lucky person's blood stream and causing a sugar spike. Instead, I ended your destiny early.
I promise I will never do such an act of hate towards another macaron shell, no matter how imperfect they are.