It was done. I had went against my principles, fully aware of the ramifications of my actions. I knew it was probably one of the most egregious acts I’ve ever committed during my two decades here on Earth.

EARLIER…

After last night’s extemporaneous outing with my best friend Mia, I had to get myself together. I had less than a week to put together an amazing speech for a competition due at month’s end.

Thoughts of ambivalence started clamoring my inner-psyche as doubt and optimism battled for supremacy. Normally, whenever I felt this perplexed I knew exactly what had to be done.

I had to reacquaint myself with an old friend, someone who completed me and placed me in a state of rationality. So, I got out of the slumber device and began assembling my equipment. I knew if I was going to get back into the swing of things, everything would have to be just right.

With my eyes brimmed with determination, I emerged from my chambers with my red, Marco’s Pizza cup in hand. 

(In all honestly I can’t recall who brought the cup into the house, but I started using it so frequently I eventually claimed it as my own. Sidebar: Marco’s Pizza has nothing on Dominoes, just saying.) 

Flying through the hallway like a foreboding spirit, I entered the kitchen in mere seconds. I filled the plastic cup with the liquid of purity, placing it meticulously into the microwave. 4 minutes exactly. I began pacing. My body was going through the motions, but my mind was in another realm.

I was so caught up on how long it had been since we last saw each other, since we last shared a smile in each other’s company. Would our moments still be magical or had we finally drifted apart? Clearly, I was in desperate need of answers.

The microwave dings expectantly, catapulting me out of my subconscious state. I then grab my thermos and begin the transfusion. As I poured at a 45 degree angle, the steaming contents splattered into their new vessel, leaving only a lingering mist to be remembered by.

Next, I grab a spoon at random and scald its metal body, putting my bacteria-stricken worries to rest.  I smile briefly at my progression, as I am one step closer to readying myself for this inevitable reunion.

At this point, my anxiety was tightening its stronghold on my mind. I knew how detrimental this meeting was. To blow this opportunity meant setting myself back tremendously; it had to perfect. I teabagged my thermos (Get your mind out of the gutter.)  , watching the soul of my water become darker with each rising and falling motion. Now letting the darkness fester, I began putting my spoon to good use.

One for the mind.

Two for the soul.

Three for the spirit.

And three and a half for perfection.

I stirred vigorously, completely aware that there was only one part left to this jigsaw puzzle. Opening the fridge with great anticipation, I expected to see its hollow, cylindrical figure staring back at me with promise and assurance. However, all I saw was me staring into the emptiness of my being.

My mind raced. “It’s gone. We’re all out. How? HOW?!! How could this be? It was just there last night? Why is this happening? WHY NOW?!!”

I thoroughly searched the rest of the house for any remnants of it, but to no avail. I suddenly had an epiphany; it had left me when I needed it most. Abandoned me in my time of need and vulnerability. I was broken. I had come face-to-face with this bitter, fucked-up realization…

There was no cream.

No cream. No justice. No peace.

I now stare incredulously at the twisted concoction I brought into this world. There was no liquid white to bring salvation to its blackened soul. But could it still be business as usual? Could this still possibly usher me back to my sanity? I dared to dream. And acted accordingly.

The first sip felt criminal, like robbing a bank or lying about eating a family member’s food out of the fridge. But, as much as I hated admitting it to myself, it got easier as time progressed.

It was done. I had went against my principles, fully aware of the ramifications of my actions. I knew it was probably one of the most egregious acts I’ve ever committed during my two decades here on Earth.

Now seated straight-faced, sweat began evacuating my pores like they were little, burning buildings. But a part of me pondered deeply, was sweating the result of the heat of the situation itself? Or was it simply guilt? Pure, unadulterated guilt.

Either way, I had come to a conclusion – I’m going to the store tomorrow to buy more cream.

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