When you are done reading the story please take a moment to check out the kind photographers who allowed me to use their photos for the story. All of them strangers yet they were generous with their outstanding photos which really help the story come alive. Just click on their names and it will take you to their work.
Photo courtesy of Nathan Fish
“You do anything long enough to escape the habit of living until the escape becomes the habit.” – David Ryan
Sugar and spice and everything nice—that’s what little girls are made of. There’s a snag with this anatomy and physiology theory. The problem arises when a sweetheart with a sweet tooth and a double-X chromosome falls into a pit of despair, clinging to the last link on the DNA chain while screaming, pleading, and begging for the “snips and snails and puppy dog tails” gene. I know of such a woman.
Isabella Gamble.
The October morning sunshine illuminated the beauty of the perfect autumn day. The trees were at their peak in color, and the weather was crisp and invigorating. For Isabella, this was the most wonderful time of the year. She whistled and hummed while dressing with care. After squeezing into her girdle, she chose her prettiest dress—a black A-line frock trimmed with orange. She looked like a reversed pumpkin, but the dress represented Halloween and her yearly guilt free shopping spree. After a slow twirl in front of the mirror, she was ready to go. If she could kick up her heels in celebration, she would, but her knees bothered her because they could not adequately bear her weight. Instead, she fantasized about the long, lean aisles filled with candy in super-sized packages at the warehouse store outside of town. This brought a smile to her face and a lightness to her heart. Unfortunately, her light heart slowed down every time she had an affair with her first and only love—chocolate.
The drive to the store was perfect. Isabella reveled in the beauty of her town. The treelined streets were ablaze with color. Some homes had been decorated with pumpkins, bales of hay, and scarecrows, while the residents of other houses had decided to go the haunted-house route, decorating with jack-o-lanterns, ghosts, and witches. Isabella had decorated her home like a graveyard, with headstones sporting funny sayings revealing the cause of death of the entombed. Her favorite was the classic “rest in peace.” It wasn’t a scary thought; it was soothing. Peaceful rest eluded her.
Spider webs were strewn all around her porch, and a gigantic black spider hovered above the door. She considered the black widow her guardian angel of sorts. All of these sights reminded her of her fantasy becoming reality. She could go on her annual shopping trip and stock up on as much chocolate as she wanted without judgement or question. Halloween represented treats, and with this trick of buying in bulk, nobody knew of her illicit affair.
“You do anything long enough to escape the habit of living until the escape becomes the habit.” – David Ryan
Sugar and spice and everything nice—that’s what little girls are made of. There’s a snag with this anatomy and physiology theory. The problem arises when a sweetheart with a sweet tooth and a double-X chromosome falls into a pit of despair, clinging to the last link on the DNA chain while screaming, pleading, and begging for the “snips and snails and puppy dog tails” gene. I know of such a woman.
Isabella Gamble.
The October morning sunshine illuminated the beauty of the perfect autumn day. The trees were at their peak in color, and the weather was crisp and invigorating. For Isabella, this was the most wonderful time of the year. She whistled and hummed while dressing with care. After squeezing into her girdle, she chose her prettiest dress—a black A-line frock trimmed with orange. She looked like a reversed pumpkin, but the dress represented Halloween and her yearly guilt free shopping spree. After a slow twirl in front of the mirror, she was ready to go. If she could kick up her heels in celebration, she would, but her knees bothered her because they could not adequately bear her weight. Instead, she fantasized about the long, lean aisles filled with candy in super-sized packages at the warehouse store outside of town. This brought a smile to her face and a lightness to her heart. Unfortunately, her light heart slowed down every time she had an affair with her first and only love—chocolate.
The drive to the store was perfect. Isabella reveled in the beauty of her town. The treelined streets were ablaze with color. Some homes had been decorated with pumpkins, bales of hay, and scarecrows, while the residents of other houses had decided to go the haunted-house route, decorating with jack-o-lanterns, ghosts, and witches. Isabella had decorated her home like a graveyard, with headstones sporting funny sayings revealing the cause of death of the entombed. Her favorite was the classic “rest in peace.” It wasn’t a scary thought; it was soothing. Peaceful rest eluded her.
Spider webs were strewn all around her porch, and a gigantic black spider hovered above the door. She considered the black widow her guardian angel of sorts. All of these sights reminded her of her fantasy becoming reality. She could go on her annual shopping trip and stock up on as much chocolate as she wanted without judgement or question. Halloween represented treats, and with this trick of buying in bulk, nobody knew of her illicit affair.
Photo courtesy of The Commons Flickr
The horrific parking situation didn’t bother her today because her mood was untroubled. She even parked in the furthest spot to get in a little exercise—another annual event. For a couple of reasons, she took a deep, long breath when she arrived at the door: one, because she wanted to savor the moment, and two, because she needed to catch her breath from the long trek to the store. She flashed her membership card along with a sneaky grin at the greeter then headed for the candy aisle. If she wasn’t out of shape and self-conscious, she would’ve skipped.
When she arrived at the back of the store, she gasped in horror, forcing her heart into rapid palpations. The candy wasn’t there. They rearranged the store. Again, she took deep breaths to regain her composure, and then, to soothe herself, she decided to look at the crisis in a different way. This wasn’t a problem but a thrill that would only add to the anticipation. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Right? In her case, absence would make the heart grow stronger. When she regained her composure, she resumed her quest to find her lover’s new home.
Time stopped while she searched the store for candy. After ten minutes of frantic searching and avoiding the crowds in front of the sample booths, she found it. She started singing “Amazing Grace” and about how it had saved a wretch like her, because right next to the produce was her idea of heaven: candy bars … lots and lots of candy bars. There were many to choose from, and there were at least thirty bars to a box. She took her time shopping and allowed her king-sized Tootsie-Roll fingers to trace the brand names of the candy. Each kind meant something to her. They were all special.
After she delighted in smelling each type, she began the process of choosing her mates. Where to begin? Mounds, Reese’s, M&M’s, Hershey Bars, Almond Joys, Kit Kat bars—because they needed a break—all held a place in her heart, as well as her stomach. Tenderness radiated through her spirit every time she chose a box and placed it in the cart with care. They were all coming home with her. Every last one of them would be devoured with lust.
After foreplay, she headed for the checkout counter. Had she been in town, this might have bothered her, but because she only came to this warehouse store once a year at Halloween, she didn’t give buying this much candy a second thought. Nobody knew her. It’s kind of like when you go to the edge of town to check into a sleazy motel offering hourly rates, even for the VIP room. It was seedy, skanky, and added to the thrill because she was out in broad daylight indulging her vice while remaining anonymous.
She placed her membership card on top of the first boxes of candy while she unloaded the rest. This would speed up the checkout process. The shame began to infiltrate her even though she loved the freedom and liberation of shopping unrecognized. Getting home safe and fast with her care package was the most important thing to her. When she placed the last of the boxes on the conveyor belt and walked to the register, she looked into the eyes of Katie, a young girl who lived on her street.
“Ms. Gamble! Hi! It’s nice to see you. I just started working here last week!”
Isabella stared in shock at the bubbly, tall, skinny redhead who had grown up. She’s not five anymore. How did this happen? What’s going on? Sweat seeped from her forehead and above her upper lip. She licked her lips nervously, tasting the sweat. It was salty, not sweet. Is this how the saying pouring salt in a wound had come about? For the second time in the store—the third time if you counted the long hike from the car to the entrance—her heart went into tachycardia. She knew this term because last week it was the word of the day on dictionary.com. The ironic thing was that the day after learning tachycardia, the next word of the day was “thanatopsis,” for which the definition is a view or contemplation of death. Isabella was now afflicted with two T-word ailments. She now had to dig up some dignity and grace to get through this transaction.
“Katie, is that you all grown up? I can’t believe you’re old enough to have a job. It’s lovely to see you.” She shoved her Visa at Katie to get the ball rolling.
“Ms. Gamble, you sure have a lot of candy here. Are you going to be the cool lady on the block who gives out the big candy bars? My little brother and his friends will be stoked. I think it’s cool for you to spend all this money for Halloween. Most people don’t even pass out candy anymore. All the porch lights are turned off. You’re going to make a lot of kids happy.”
She talked fast and nonstop. It took a minute for her words to strike a blow.
“No! No that’s not ...” She stopped when she saw the confusion and fear on Katie’s face as her voice rose and teetered on the brink of hysteria. “Oh, Katie, you found me out! Let’s keep this a secret so I can surprise the trick-or-treaters. It’s more fun when they aren’t expecting it. Don’t you think?” Her legs trembled. Katie’s smile returned, and then, as she handed her the receipt, she said, “Your secret’s safe with me, Ms. Gamble.”
Isabella left the store and started her long walk to the car. The sun was still shining, and the temperature was warm, but she was chilled to the bone. Her legs shook, and now her hands joined in. Her happy holiday was turning into a nightmare. She needed to pacify herself. Deep breaths … deep breaths. Katie said my secret was safe.
While she was unloading the candy, she brainstormed. If I set aside one box of candy for the trick-or-treaters, it will be alright. If Katie doesn’t say anything, then I hand out the lollipops as planned. Everyone will be happy. I will just turn my porch light off the second the candy bars are gone, if I even have to use them.
All the boxes were loaded into the car except for one—a box of Three Musketeers. It rode shotgun. Here, happiness returned as the problem was solved. She looked down at her precious cargo, unwrapped one, and took a bite. The instant the chocolate hit her bloodstream, her heart rate slowed. The tune she loved raced into her mind, and she sang it with glee: “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”
The horrific parking situation didn’t bother her today because her mood was untroubled. She even parked in the furthest spot to get in a little exercise—another annual event. For a couple of reasons, she took a deep, long breath when she arrived at the door: one, because she wanted to savor the moment, and two, because she needed to catch her breath from the long trek to the store. She flashed her membership card along with a sneaky grin at the greeter then headed for the candy aisle. If she wasn’t out of shape and self-conscious, she would’ve skipped.
When she arrived at the back of the store, she gasped in horror, forcing her heart into rapid palpations. The candy wasn’t there. They rearranged the store. Again, she took deep breaths to regain her composure, and then, to soothe herself, she decided to look at the crisis in a different way. This wasn’t a problem but a thrill that would only add to the anticipation. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Right? In her case, absence would make the heart grow stronger. When she regained her composure, she resumed her quest to find her lover’s new home.
Time stopped while she searched the store for candy. After ten minutes of frantic searching and avoiding the crowds in front of the sample booths, she found it. She started singing “Amazing Grace” and about how it had saved a wretch like her, because right next to the produce was her idea of heaven: candy bars … lots and lots of candy bars. There were many to choose from, and there were at least thirty bars to a box. She took her time shopping and allowed her king-sized Tootsie-Roll fingers to trace the brand names of the candy. Each kind meant something to her. They were all special.
After she delighted in smelling each type, she began the process of choosing her mates. Where to begin? Mounds, Reese’s, M&M’s, Hershey Bars, Almond Joys, Kit Kat bars—because they needed a break—all held a place in her heart, as well as her stomach. Tenderness radiated through her spirit every time she chose a box and placed it in the cart with care. They were all coming home with her. Every last one of them would be devoured with lust.
After foreplay, she headed for the checkout counter. Had she been in town, this might have bothered her, but because she only came to this warehouse store once a year at Halloween, she didn’t give buying this much candy a second thought. Nobody knew her. It’s kind of like when you go to the edge of town to check into a sleazy motel offering hourly rates, even for the VIP room. It was seedy, skanky, and added to the thrill because she was out in broad daylight indulging her vice while remaining anonymous.
She placed her membership card on top of the first boxes of candy while she unloaded the rest. This would speed up the checkout process. The shame began to infiltrate her even though she loved the freedom and liberation of shopping unrecognized. Getting home safe and fast with her care package was the most important thing to her. When she placed the last of the boxes on the conveyor belt and walked to the register, she looked into the eyes of Katie, a young girl who lived on her street.
“Ms. Gamble! Hi! It’s nice to see you. I just started working here last week!”
Isabella stared in shock at the bubbly, tall, skinny redhead who had grown up. She’s not five anymore. How did this happen? What’s going on? Sweat seeped from her forehead and above her upper lip. She licked her lips nervously, tasting the sweat. It was salty, not sweet. Is this how the saying pouring salt in a wound had come about? For the second time in the store—the third time if you counted the long hike from the car to the entrance—her heart went into tachycardia. She knew this term because last week it was the word of the day on dictionary.com. The ironic thing was that the day after learning tachycardia, the next word of the day was “thanatopsis,” for which the definition is a view or contemplation of death. Isabella was now afflicted with two T-word ailments. She now had to dig up some dignity and grace to get through this transaction.
“Katie, is that you all grown up? I can’t believe you’re old enough to have a job. It’s lovely to see you.” She shoved her Visa at Katie to get the ball rolling.
“Ms. Gamble, you sure have a lot of candy here. Are you going to be the cool lady on the block who gives out the big candy bars? My little brother and his friends will be stoked. I think it’s cool for you to spend all this money for Halloween. Most people don’t even pass out candy anymore. All the porch lights are turned off. You’re going to make a lot of kids happy.”
She talked fast and nonstop. It took a minute for her words to strike a blow.
“No! No that’s not ...” She stopped when she saw the confusion and fear on Katie’s face as her voice rose and teetered on the brink of hysteria. “Oh, Katie, you found me out! Let’s keep this a secret so I can surprise the trick-or-treaters. It’s more fun when they aren’t expecting it. Don’t you think?” Her legs trembled. Katie’s smile returned, and then, as she handed her the receipt, she said, “Your secret’s safe with me, Ms. Gamble.”
Isabella left the store and started her long walk to the car. The sun was still shining, and the temperature was warm, but she was chilled to the bone. Her legs shook, and now her hands joined in. Her happy holiday was turning into a nightmare. She needed to pacify herself. Deep breaths … deep breaths. Katie said my secret was safe.
While she was unloading the candy, she brainstormed. If I set aside one box of candy for the trick-or-treaters, it will be alright. If Katie doesn’t say anything, then I hand out the lollipops as planned. Everyone will be happy. I will just turn my porch light off the second the candy bars are gone, if I even have to use them.
All the boxes were loaded into the car except for one—a box of Three Musketeers. It rode shotgun. Here, happiness returned as the problem was solved. She looked down at her precious cargo, unwrapped one, and took a bite. The instant the chocolate hit her bloodstream, her heart rate slowed. The tune she loved raced into her mind, and she sang it with glee: “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”
Photo courtesy of Bill Ackerman
The bewitching hour arrived. It was Halloween night. Isabella filled her plastic bowl with the lollipops. In the corner, hidden under a towel, was the one box of candy bars she would hand out just in case. It was hard deciding which one to give away, and she was proud of her newfound strength when she finally made the decision. This might be a fun night after all. When the trick-or-treaters were done, she would settle in for a marathon of Top Chef: Just Desserts.
When it was still light out, the toddlers and preschoolers started trick-or-treating. Isabella oohed and aahed at the princesses, firemen, and kitty cats, all of whom were precious. They were all delighted to get lollipops. At dusk, the parade stopped for a while, and the transition from light to dark began. This is when the older trick-or-treaters came out. There was nothing to worry about, because she had plenty of lollipops left.
The doorbell rang, and she opened the door. “Trick or Treat!” She stumbled back from the volume of the chant. There must have been twenty kids shoving pillowcases at her. She filled them up and noticed other groups, each with a minimum of twelve kids. The neighborhood was being invaded by kids who were eager for their sugar fix. Vans pulled up and parked, and more kids spilled out before running from door to door. Isabella’s heart began to beat fast when she saw Katie, dressed as the devil, walk up with a big smile, a pitchfork, and a plastic pumpkin.
“Ms. Gamble, you inspired me. I went home after work the day I saw you. I told my mom how you were going to pass out the big candy bars, and I suggested she and the other neighbors do the same. We wanted to bring back the glory days of Halloween. Well, word got out, and all the kids are coming to our street. Isn’t that amazing?” She then held out her pumpkin.
The sweat began to bead again. She thought, Well, OK. I was prepared for this. She uncovered the big candy bars and put one in Katie’s pumpkin. Well, just like a dog can smell fear, the kids could smell candy. Children of all ages kept coming while chanting “Trick or treat!” and then hooting and hollering about the jackpot they’d received, which then brought even more kids to her house. Isabella was on autopilot; she passed out candy bar after candy bar and kept opening more boxes. The children were cheering and clapping. Once the wave of kids left, she turned off her porch light, hoping to keep the rest away. She went to her stash, and although she had suffered a big loss, there were still some left.
The bewitching hour arrived. It was Halloween night. Isabella filled her plastic bowl with the lollipops. In the corner, hidden under a towel, was the one box of candy bars she would hand out just in case. It was hard deciding which one to give away, and she was proud of her newfound strength when she finally made the decision. This might be a fun night after all. When the trick-or-treaters were done, she would settle in for a marathon of Top Chef: Just Desserts.
When it was still light out, the toddlers and preschoolers started trick-or-treating. Isabella oohed and aahed at the princesses, firemen, and kitty cats, all of whom were precious. They were all delighted to get lollipops. At dusk, the parade stopped for a while, and the transition from light to dark began. This is when the older trick-or-treaters came out. There was nothing to worry about, because she had plenty of lollipops left.
The doorbell rang, and she opened the door. “Trick or Treat!” She stumbled back from the volume of the chant. There must have been twenty kids shoving pillowcases at her. She filled them up and noticed other groups, each with a minimum of twelve kids. The neighborhood was being invaded by kids who were eager for their sugar fix. Vans pulled up and parked, and more kids spilled out before running from door to door. Isabella’s heart began to beat fast when she saw Katie, dressed as the devil, walk up with a big smile, a pitchfork, and a plastic pumpkin.
“Ms. Gamble, you inspired me. I went home after work the day I saw you. I told my mom how you were going to pass out the big candy bars, and I suggested she and the other neighbors do the same. We wanted to bring back the glory days of Halloween. Well, word got out, and all the kids are coming to our street. Isn’t that amazing?” She then held out her pumpkin.
The sweat began to bead again. She thought, Well, OK. I was prepared for this. She uncovered the big candy bars and put one in Katie’s pumpkin. Well, just like a dog can smell fear, the kids could smell candy. Children of all ages kept coming while chanting “Trick or treat!” and then hooting and hollering about the jackpot they’d received, which then brought even more kids to her house. Isabella was on autopilot; she passed out candy bar after candy bar and kept opening more boxes. The children were cheering and clapping. Once the wave of kids left, she turned off her porch light, hoping to keep the rest away. She went to her stash, and although she had suffered a big loss, there were still some left.
A few minutes later, her doorbell rang, and more trick-or-treaters were outside chanting the worst words she would ever hear in her life. Her porch light was on a sensor, and she had forgotten to turn off the main switch. Another dozen or so kids came up, and they celebrated and high-fived each other after getting the big candy bars. It was like Mardi Gras in the neighborhood! She looked like a zombie as she went for more boxes of candy and passed them out. The color drained from her face, her eyes went blank, and when she went to protest, no sound came from her mouth. After the last precious chocolate bar was handed out, she looked into her kitchen and noticed that all the boxes of her beloved sweets were gone. The frenzy began. The umbrella next to the front door came in handy as she smashed her porch light to smithereens. At first, the kids thought it was a show, but they soon realized that the lady with the big candy bars had gone mad, and they ran screaming down the road.
Now back inside her house, she panicked. There must be more candy bars here! I always have some stashed just in case! She ran to the bookcase where she kept one of those fake books that hold things inside. Where is it? She began to check every book methodically. She grabbed Eat, Pray, Love and threw it on the ground, and then she pushed past Dr. Phil’s The Ultimate Weight Solutions book, which was right next to the South Beach Diet. She shoved When Food is Love and The 7 habits of Highly Effective People to the ground. Then, with one big sweep of her arm, she wiped out an entire shelf of books, except for one: Women, Food and God. For a moment, she stood holding the book and sighed. Hmmm. I always meant to read this. The next instant, she threw the book through the front window, sending glass shards everywhere.
Where is that book!? The bookshelf also held movies, and the books and DVDs were mixed up. This was a catastrophe of epic proportions. Like a woman searching for her lost baby, she started throwing movies and books into the air. In the midst of her turmoil she came across the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. This stopped her. She examined the cover then hugged it tightly to her chest. “Oh, Willy, I need you. I need you. I need you.” Tears ran down her cheeks so fast that they blinded her. She stumbled to the couch, sat down, and then began to sing the Willy Wonka song.
Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three.
Come with me,
And you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look, and you’ll see into your imagination ...
The song lulled her into a trance until she remembered the part where the boat started spinning and spinning. It was exactly what was happening in her head.
She released a primal yell and stomped on the movie. She kept screaming until she found one of the fake books. She ripped it opened with shaky hands, only to find that it didn’t have any candy bars in it; what it held was a Smith and Wesson revolver for the just-in-case moments in life. Well, this was that moment. She grabbed the gun and headed for the kitchen.
Now back inside her house, she panicked. There must be more candy bars here! I always have some stashed just in case! She ran to the bookcase where she kept one of those fake books that hold things inside. Where is it? She began to check every book methodically. She grabbed Eat, Pray, Love and threw it on the ground, and then she pushed past Dr. Phil’s The Ultimate Weight Solutions book, which was right next to the South Beach Diet. She shoved When Food is Love and The 7 habits of Highly Effective People to the ground. Then, with one big sweep of her arm, she wiped out an entire shelf of books, except for one: Women, Food and God. For a moment, she stood holding the book and sighed. Hmmm. I always meant to read this. The next instant, she threw the book through the front window, sending glass shards everywhere.
Where is that book!? The bookshelf also held movies, and the books and DVDs were mixed up. This was a catastrophe of epic proportions. Like a woman searching for her lost baby, she started throwing movies and books into the air. In the midst of her turmoil she came across the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. This stopped her. She examined the cover then hugged it tightly to her chest. “Oh, Willy, I need you. I need you. I need you.” Tears ran down her cheeks so fast that they blinded her. She stumbled to the couch, sat down, and then began to sing the Willy Wonka song.
Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three.
Come with me,
And you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look, and you’ll see into your imagination ...
The song lulled her into a trance until she remembered the part where the boat started spinning and spinning. It was exactly what was happening in her head.
She released a primal yell and stomped on the movie. She kept screaming until she found one of the fake books. She ripped it opened with shaky hands, only to find that it didn’t have any candy bars in it; what it held was a Smith and Wesson revolver for the just-in-case moments in life. Well, this was that moment. She grabbed the gun and headed for the kitchen.
There must be some sweets here! She ran to the drawers and found a large frying pan. It reminded her of Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” ad in the eighties. She then started to chant: “This is my brain; this is my brain in pain. Where the hell is my candy!?” Drawer after drawer was pulled out and thrown to the ground as she looked for a fix. Nothing. There was nothing. She then looked to the freezer. Sometimes, she would freeze her York Peppermint Patties to get that extra blast of cool air. She opened the freezer door using the revolver, which had morphed into her new hand. She used it to throw the frozen vegetables and ice trays out of the way. Nestled in the back was an old Klondike bar with the wrapper torn halfway off. “Ice cream? What the hell? I hate ice cream!” Then, another little jingle went through her brain on pain: “What would you do for a Klondike bar?” Her heart was beating as fast as a Maserati now. Her brain was in pain. Her hands shook, and her knees buckled. Her salty sweat and tears mocked her as the Klondike jingle played over and over in her head. “What would you do for a Klondike bar?” She pierced the freezer-burned ice cream with the revolver and walked away from the freezer.
Pain seared through her brain. Her ears were ringing. Her revolver hand was experiencing numbness and tingling. The knocks on her door echoed through the house, with more chants of “Trick or treat!” mingling with the evil ice cream jingle. She used the revolver as a fork and shoved the Klondike bar into her mouth. The first bite gave her brain freeze, but it was nothing compared to the brain-in-pain scenario. “Ugh! Ice cream. I hate ice cream,” she mumbled around a mouthful. She ate another bite of the old, cracked ice cream bar, and it wasn’t until the third bite that she tasted chocolate. The ecstasy filled her soul. Her heart rate slowed. Her knees stopped buckling. The tears stopped flowing. The room stopped spinning, and her brain didn’t hurt anymore. Her revolver hand took charge, and she mumbled one last word before her shaky fingers assisted her to a peaceful rest.
Treat.
Pain seared through her brain. Her ears were ringing. Her revolver hand was experiencing numbness and tingling. The knocks on her door echoed through the house, with more chants of “Trick or treat!” mingling with the evil ice cream jingle. She used the revolver as a fork and shoved the Klondike bar into her mouth. The first bite gave her brain freeze, but it was nothing compared to the brain-in-pain scenario. “Ugh! Ice cream. I hate ice cream,” she mumbled around a mouthful. She ate another bite of the old, cracked ice cream bar, and it wasn’t until the third bite that she tasted chocolate. The ecstasy filled her soul. Her heart rate slowed. Her knees stopped buckling. The tears stopped flowing. The room stopped spinning, and her brain didn’t hurt anymore. Her revolver hand took charge, and she mumbled one last word before her shaky fingers assisted her to a peaceful rest.
Treat.