I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in the shimmering glass of the pristine case. It was my weekly outing to the nearby grocery story – the only type of outing I’d afforded myself for several weeks now – and now, this. The glass case had been cleaned, buffed and shined beyond recognition, and it had precisely zero pastries in it.
Now mind you, I’m not one to succumb to the lure of the pastry case with any regularity. But when you only leave the house once a week, you begin to feel like maybe you deserve something. I’m doing my part to flatten the curve. Haven’t I earned something for that? The truth is that I haven’t – that my contribution to the solution is so much easier than the contributions of others – but that hasn’t stopped my indulgence thus far.
We humans are prone to suffering in any uncomfortable circumstance as a familiar path of least resistance, and I wanted a donut to ease that pain, dammit. My gaze went downward toward the shelf beneath the case, and I saw there were dozens of pre-assembled plastic containers of donuts strewn about. Long gone are the days where we can use the tongs and little pieces of folded tissue paper to choose our own sugary treats, we simply can’t afford the risk of that right now. Unfazed, I perused the dozen or so options before me. It felt like a lot of too much of this, not enough of that.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. My mind could have been playing tricks on me, but I could swear a lone sugar-encrusted, raspberry-filled donut popped out it’s hand, gave a quick wave, and winked at me. I glanced to my left, and to my right, and then hastily threw the container in my cart like it was a dirty secret.
You will be mine, sweet lover. You will be mine.