It taunts me with its frosted yellow face. I know it promises terrible things, but yet I’m tempted. I slid to the oak lip of my workspace, ready to enter my calories for the day on weightwatchers.com, and propped up against the mouse was the baked good, mocking me with its happiness.
Its ugly yellow skin. Its dark, evil eyes. A layer of soft white cookie poking around the frosted edges like an eclipse (don’t stare directly at it). And the tiny semicircle bitten from its cheek, result of a hasty quality check. A little sample. I don’t need to eat the whole thing. There’s no slot on the website for “one bite of a cookie - x many calories.” It doesn’t count.
I shift it from the mouse pad, brushing the crumbs with my wrist as I navigate websites. A tiring activity to be sure. One that may require the extra boost of energy. A sugar rush. A push to the end. A reward at the very least.
Half of a smiley face looks wrong. It’s morbid. One eye. Half a smile. Like some monster cruelly mistreated this innocent delicacy. Who would do such a thing? Joyous sugar. Beaming lumps of frosted purity. I’ll get to the end of this somehow. Whoever is responsible for the meager crumbs scattered on the oak desktop will pay.
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