I was walking to the other side of the office today with the intention of troubleshooting a few software errors with GB and EL, but when I passed by the president’s (WN’s), office I saw a shiny, metallic blue wrapper peeking out from a bowl on his desk. I quickly glanced to the right and then to the left–nobody was watching. A few steps later my head, like a parrot, was cocked over a bowl of expensive, gourmet chocolate truffles; they were all looking at me, begging me to eat one. I picked one up and rolled it around in my hands; my mind quickly flickered to an image of Gollum admiring his birthday ring and whispering, “My precious.” Even the wrapper’s metallic crinkle turned the corners of my lips up into a tight smile.

I tucked the presidential truffle tightly in my left palm and briskly trekked back to my desk, forgetting my original purpose. There I sat staring at my precious. Delighted with my treasure, I unwrapped it slowly, giddy with anticipation. Milk chocolate laced with a dark chocolate doily-like pattern, my favorite. One bite. Two bites. Three bites, and it was gone.

And now I have heart burn and a sore throat from eating chocolate too early in the morning. Stupid, delicious truffle.