You have given up bread, brownies, cake, ice cream, pasta, but there is one thing that you get to keep that makes it all worth while: chocolate. Rich. Dark. You know how it tingles with sensation. You take a morsel and wrap your tongue around it. It melts, giving you a shiver of pleasure down your back. You smile. This is the life. This takes all that you've given up worth it.
Then that strange sensation spreads up your body. You feel dizzy as if the chocolate was drugged with some kind of sleeping pill. Your neck tightens and your head is fuzzy. People talk to you, but it seems so hazy. Your children ask for you to read a book, and you sigh but say okay. At least they're not wanting you to run and play because now all you want to do is lay down on the couch. Your eyes slide over the words, going out of focus. On the edges, darkness creeps in.
Midsentence, you fall asleep. "Mommy! Wake up."
"I think my chocolate is poisoned," I tell my husband.
"Yes, dear." He shakes his head. "Just go to sleep. It'll all be better in the morning."
As the world goes black around me, I think that perhaps I should boycott Ghiradelli.