in the shadow of the shelf

I loathe to open those boxes of chocolates, boxes of which their contents are unknown to me.

Yes my dear, I know they’re chocolates but what kind, do you know? At what price shall I have to pay to open a box and find out that they’re not the ones I really like. Actually those I could probably tolerate. Those that I cannot are boxes of chocolates with weird, posh-sounding names that cost a bomb. Or those with weird flavours. Like coconut. Or wasabi. Why can’t they just leave chocolates alone? Why can’t they just give chocolates simple names? We’re already living in a complicated world where chocolates are no longer fit for kids because they come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and flavours. I’ve seen alcoholic chocolates, and penis-shaped chocolates for hen nights (and probably some other nights…though I’m not sure what they sell on bachelor nights). So most of the time, I like to leave those boxes of chocolates on the shelf.

And if I really tiptoe, I can reach the highest shelf. If if I exert enough effort and just shove them right at the back where those cobwebs and dust bunnies gather, those shadows, I think I’ll be able to forget about opening them.


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