A short, short story

Claiborne wanted nothing more than to eat.
But he couldn't because he was allergic to most sugars and a number of wheats as well.
He was also destitute.
When he happened upon either money or moderately fresh dumpster foods he was doomed to the leafy boredom of mixed greens and the occasional dance on the wild side with a bit of tasty (although gas-inducing) cheese.

One day he found a marvelous hunk of lavender bread in the wicker garbage bin behind the local boulangerie. And although he knew full well that it would be a nearly suicidal thing to consume, he raised the slightly crusty baguette to his lips and was shot in the back by a passing policeman who thought he was strangling a snake.

He died in a pool of his own blood.
But not before eating the entirety of the lavender loaf with what little life he had left after the negligent and trigger-happy officer did him in.

The End