Creative Non-fiction about a candy fix
|I stole it. I stole the Troyka and the fancy French chocolate with 80% coco. I took it today, while packing, from your special candy shelf.
In a way they where mine, I payed for them after all. But they where bought for sharing, for me and you.
I was supposed to reach into the shelf, perhaps complaining about the difficulty of the proses, due in large part to my collection of junk hanging out in front of the shelf system. I was supposed to reach my hand in there, pulling out - triumphantly might I ad - a candy bar full of chocolaty goodness just for me and you. We would munch on it, a little guilty in our indulgence, while drinking coffee or tea. If it was early it would be coffee, if later tea, and again coffee if it was quite late and we just needed, desperately craved, some of that coco in our blood.
But something happened, something must have happened, because we forgot about our candy fix, and the Troyka and the French Dark experienced, if not quite solitude, at least some sort of candy peace that only they can know and talk about. I stole it. It was mine, and I took it. You see - I might need it now more than ever.