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Chocolate X's
Main Ingredients:
ex
optometrist
cocoa powder
watercress
picnic table
Spice Pack:
1/2 dollop of gladness
1 dash of euphoria
This one’s name was Victor.
We were supposed to meet last week during his lunch break. I really couldn’t have asked for any better weather to see him— it was a cool June afternoon, the slightest breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and a hint of lavender. I had walked all the way from my apartment to his work, only ten blocks, and stopped by a 7/11 along the way to buy a Hershey's bar to enjoy on my way over. I found him sitting outside at a picnic table waiting for me.
I came up behind him, my arms slipping around his chest like snakes. He turned his head to kiss me, remarked that I tasted like cocoa powder and that he liked it. I placed the lightest kiss on his neck, felt the smallest bit of pleasure at the red lipstick print left behind.
“So you wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and I took a seat across from him. I nodded, reached over to take one of his hands in both of mine. My fingers traced the lines of his palm, and I humored myself at the idea that I should try reading peoples’ futures for a living instead. After all, I suppose I knew his.
I smiled to myself, and then looked up at him. He was still picking at his lunch, a very fresh looking cucumber and watercress salad. “Remember the time we first met?”
He laughed. “Well… yeah, I guess. We met here.”
That was true. A little more than a month ago, I met Victor here, at his work— the town’s only LensCrafter’s (and the only place that will take my insurance, to boot). My friend referred me to Victor because he was the best eye doctor here, and I didn’t know that someone testing you for glaucoma could somehow be a turn on. A lot of people said it was in “poor taste” that I was quick to make moves on my optometrist— but to be fair, I’ve never had good taste buds.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you…” My heart started to beat faster as the adrenaline filled my body. He straightened up. I could barely contain my smile. “I just wanted to tell you— it’s over.”
It’s always a blank look on their face first, as if I had just said something to them in a different language. You can see the whole process in slow motion, I’ve learned— their noses will scrunch up a bit, a flash of confusion in their eyes— you can almost hear them repeating the sentence in their head aloud, if you listen close enough. I stifled the laugh trying to come out as he retracted his hand from mine.
He started to say something, but I tuned him out. God, it really was a beautiful day. The same summer breeze was in the air, the lingering taste of chocolate in my mouth, and all I could think about was who I was going to meet next.
ex
optometrist
cocoa powder
watercress
picnic table
Spice Pack:
1/2 dollop of gladness
1 dash of euphoria
This one’s name was Victor.
We were supposed to meet last week during his lunch break. I really couldn’t have asked for any better weather to see him— it was a cool June afternoon, the slightest breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and a hint of lavender. I had walked all the way from my apartment to his work, only ten blocks, and stopped by a 7/11 along the way to buy a Hershey's bar to enjoy on my way over. I found him sitting outside at a picnic table waiting for me.
I came up behind him, my arms slipping around his chest like snakes. He turned his head to kiss me, remarked that I tasted like cocoa powder and that he liked it. I placed the lightest kiss on his neck, felt the smallest bit of pleasure at the red lipstick print left behind.
“So you wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and I took a seat across from him. I nodded, reached over to take one of his hands in both of mine. My fingers traced the lines of his palm, and I humored myself at the idea that I should try reading peoples’ futures for a living instead. After all, I suppose I knew his.
I smiled to myself, and then looked up at him. He was still picking at his lunch, a very fresh looking cucumber and watercress salad. “Remember the time we first met?”
He laughed. “Well… yeah, I guess. We met here.”
That was true. A little more than a month ago, I met Victor here, at his work— the town’s only LensCrafter’s (and the only place that will take my insurance, to boot). My friend referred me to Victor because he was the best eye doctor here, and I didn’t know that someone testing you for glaucoma could somehow be a turn on. A lot of people said it was in “poor taste” that I was quick to make moves on my optometrist— but to be fair, I’ve never had good taste buds.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you…” My heart started to beat faster as the adrenaline filled my body. He straightened up. I could barely contain my smile. “I just wanted to tell you— it’s over.”
It’s always a blank look on their face first, as if I had just said something to them in a different language. You can see the whole process in slow motion, I’ve learned— their noses will scrunch up a bit, a flash of confusion in their eyes— you can almost hear them repeating the sentence in their head aloud, if you listen close enough. I stifled the laugh trying to come out as he retracted his hand from mine.
He started to say something, but I tuned him out. God, it really was a beautiful day. The same summer breeze was in the air, the lingering taste of chocolate in my mouth, and all I could think about was who I was going to meet next.
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