the tell-tale cheese cake


Un vrai cheese cake à l'anglaise, pas de doute...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

i’m in a café.

the girl at the table next to me drank milky coffee out of an oversized cup and slowly ate a piece of cheesecake while reading a book on her ipad.

i’d like to pretend that didn’t bother me.

but it did.

oh what a droll life she must lead.  having a cheesecake snack in the middle of the day.

maybe i shouldn’t judge her.  maybe it was her lunch.  maybe it was her lunch and breakfast.

can i judge her for that?

it’s really none of my business.  except the bitch left and left about 1/3 of the cheesecake on the empty table.

just sitting there.  next to me.  with a fork and everything.

i’ve been sitting here trying to figure out how i can get that cheesecake in my mouth without any one seeing.

i can’t just take it and put it on my table and eat it with her fork.

not because that’s gross, but because everyone in the café would think i’m some kind of weirdo.

could i pick it up and pretend like i am cleaning the table for the staff?

turn the corner and take it into the bathroom with me?

that’s not weird, right?

all i want is that cheesecake on my tongue.

i don’t really care what these strangers in this café think.

nor do i really care that i don’t eat cheesecake.

because i don’t eat sugar.

just for this reason.

because i just spent 5 minutes plotting how i am going to sneak someone’s leftover cake into the bathroom with me so i could eat it with my hands over the toilet.

so no one would think i am weird.

 

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