I steal from real life to put in stories.
We were supposed to make s’mores, but it rained and we never lit a fire and then we came back home from where we were, so we ended up with a bag of milk chocolate chips. We normally buy bittersweet, but we didn’t look at the bag that closely in the Co-op I suppose. A few days after being home, Geoff opened the bag just to eat a few milk chocolate chips. Then I ate a few milk chocolate chips.
I don’t like eating milk chocolate chips by themselves. Whenever I do, it reminds me of someone mocking my weight, mocking my personality, mocking my potential – the exact words “You’ll never have anyone love you if you keep eating junk like that.”
Except I wasn’t eating milk chocolate chips when this happened. I was eating a mint chocolate bar. I don’t know why milk overtook mint in my memory, but it has an even knowing that the memory trigger is wrong does nothing about it.
You remember things that never happened. I’m tired of it, someone says.
Maybe all I’m doing is stealing from my imagination then.