THE HALF EATEN SUNDAE

Looking for something sweet, I went searching incessantly for the thing that would hit the spot. I took a left and then a right and came across the ice cream shop. There stood many types of people all contemplating their own flavor of the day. Lined up like ants, they all had the same end goal for their patient determination. I decided to join the ranks and fell into the formation.

I watched as turn by turn each person walked off with their confection. Their eyes beaming as the sticky goodness met with their warm tongues and puckering lips. The decision seemed simple enough in my eyes. I would go for the hot fudge sundae. The dichotomy of it sparked my apathetic brain. This may be the dessert my fanatical life may just wrap around and savor, even if just for the briefest of moments.

I spouted my demands to the server, "double scoop in the medium cup and don't skimp on the whip cream". I felt like I was at Starbucks snootily speaking to a barista. She created the sundae with mindless precision and handed it over to my eager hands. I gave an approving nod and praised her work. I reluctantly handed over the last bit of my cash and skipped over to the seat up against the front window.

Time to let the anticipation subside, as I took the first heaping spoonful and consumed it. It was as I figured… warm and cold intermixed, tingling my senses. I started with a slow pace but eventually became impatient because the experience was reaching a plateau. I was beginning to tire of the aftertaste. The hot fudge was not hot much longer and thoughts of generic ice water revolved around my brain. My appetite was switched to something more readily available and certainly not as costly. I became frustrated and no longer cared to eat any more of the sundae. I looked upon it's melted mess. It was once a towering masterpiece which was now obliterated by the stabbing of the plastic spoon. The aftermath was a half melted story of a once passionate desire.

My sticky hands grabbed the remains and away it was thrown… never to be seen again in the light of day.

~ Marilen J. Sarian