A big box of various chocolate-covered cookies.
I looked in, trying to decide which one to ease my screaming stomach with, and noticed one that I hadn't seen the previous night.
It was a heart.
I picked it up and nibbled off one of the round curves, then opened the fridge door and washed the light sweetness down with milk.
I finished the cookie in two more bites.
So sweetly and softly it came, was abused, and then was gone.
After putting the milk away, I turned to make a new choice of cookie.
I thought it had been the last heart left. But there was one more, way down at the very bottom, seemingly hidden from the rest.
I left it there, knowing sooner or later I would come back for it and ruin it myself, or someone new would see it and enjoy it, possibly even savor it, without having to wash it down.
