18 August 2004

he wanted it. and there it was...he could have reached out and touched it, without moving from his seat. just a little square of dark-chocolate fudge, but the last square of fudge. there would be more, of course. but this batch had been particularly delicate...just melting in his mouth. he could taste the mere thought of this black square of perfection.

and it was waiting for someone to snatch it.

it sat.. on a ceramic-grey saucer, with a modest white table lace peering from under this edge of the dish. crumbs scattered in memory of the black square's former companions. and he sat. and he longed for his watering mouth and bulging eyes to be satisfied of their cravings. he wanted it. but every time he started to reach out, something in him forced his hand down, to remain quietly on the arm of the chair. his eyes were burning, his tongue swelling with the chance of chocolate. but no matter how hard he tried, he could not overcome himself, much less the world.

Someone had noticed, he'd enjoyed the fudge. the black-on-grey-on-white image burned into his expression. she asked if he wanted the last piece. he only heard her through a salt and pepper mist of realization. she asked again. he said no. thank you, it was very good and i could eat it, but ...

but what? why? why couldn't he reach out for something so small--something so insignificant--something so simple as a black square of dark chocolate fudge, when he knew he wanted it? everything loses color here. the whole world is drained of life. everything turns black-on-grey-on-white-on-black. he still wants it...one last chance before it's thrown to the dogs.. no. no thank you. but wait ... he wants it..bring it back ... bring it, and leave it ... please. panic. can't breathe. but... and ... and perhaps this time...no. nevermind--probably not.

it's not about the fudge. it's not about the black. it's about the blackandwhiteandgrey, you see...it all runs together. it all belongs together. it's about everything, and everyone, else.




just hold on to your crayon box.

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