I looked down at the bar in my hand. I didn’t even know what kind it was. I didn’t care anymore. The craving was gone. It had evaporated under fear, leaving only a sour taste in my mouth.
I paid for the chocolate I no longer wanted, my fingers fumbling with the card.
The cashier smiled, unaware, and asked if I found everything I needed. I nodded, because my voice didn’t feel safe. I didn’t trust it not to c***k. I didn’t trust myself not to say his name out loud and make it real.
“Have a good evening,” the cashier said.
I mumbled something that might have sounded like thanks, grabbed the small bag, and walked out.
Outside, the air felt thinner.
The streetlight glow hit my eyes, and the dark spaces between cars looked deeper than they should have. I scanned them without meaning to, se
