#15

Bellies full, I'd wished I'd bought the bigger size dress instead of trying to be sexy. Might as well order dessert and coffee; it would buy me more time to let my meal digest. He didn't mind. We settled on a dish of flan and agreed to share. That way, I wouldn't feel so guilty about indulging. The coffee came first. It was steamy, black, and strong. Reminded me of a lover who I hadn't seen in a while. I'd make a mental note to text him when I got home. The flan arrived, caramel glistening on top of the eggy custard on a simple white dish and a sprig of mint for color. He allowed me the first spoonful. The silver spoon broke the mold causing the caramel sauce to race to fill the fissures. I raised the spoon to my mouth and opened. A drop of the caramel dripped from the spoon onto my lips. I wiped it with my finger and then licked it. It was so sweet it almost gave me a sugar rush. He ate the flan with less ceremony than I but I knew I had a tendency to be extra. Sometimes I just wanted to make everything an overwhelmingly sensual experience just to see how it felt. Sort of like people who fear clowns visiting the circus. It serves as a reminder of my vibrancy; my aliveness. It's an addiction.