Susie and Ned shared everything from friends to the flu, toothbrushes and towels excluded. They even shared the same cushion on the couch while watching The Voice or napping. It seemed like things would continue in shared bliss forever, until the truffle incident of 2017.
Susie shuffled around in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes and putting away the leftovers from dinner. Ned cooked and she cleaned, sometimes vice versa, but that was the division of labor in their house. It was one of the many agreements that they reached throughout their time together, more often than not, it was a natural and voluntary arrangement.
Opening a cabinet, Susie shoved a can of tomato soup and another can of peas aside. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm that she was unobserved. Sure enough, she was alone. Ned was in the next room watching tv, Susie could hear Alex Trebeck reading off the final Jeopardy clue.
She extracted a small box tied with a ribbon in the very back hidden under a box of white rice. Carefully, she untied the ribbon and opened the box with a sigh of relief. Six perfect truffles were in place, flawlessly round and chocolatey, ready to be eaten, one by one.
Earlier in the week, the truffles arrived in a larger Christmas box mixed in with pears and specialty nuts. At the first opportunity, Susie snatched the box and stashed it away, to be shared at her discretion. Now, it was time to sample her goods. With surgical precision, she pulled a truffle out and held it between her thumb and index finger up to the light and confirmed, “Absolute perfection.”
The box, she returned to its special place in the cabinet, under the rice and behind the tomato soup and peas. Taking a nibble from the side of the truffle, the rich chocolate melted on her tongue. It was creamy and satisfying with more than three quarters still to slowly enjoy.
Then a twinge of guilt struck, somewhere between her mouth and stomach, and she remembered that sharing is caring with the man on the sofa.
She walked out to the living room, “Here Ned, try this.”
She offered him the delicacy without reservations and watched him take it, anxious to try another nibble from the other side. Ned inspected the truffle.
“There’s a bite out of this,” he declared and popped the entire thing into his mouth.
Susie’s jaw dropped as she watched her husband masticate the rest of the candy.
“What?” he asked with feigned concern.
“It fell into my mouth.”
Towels, toothbrushes, and truffles; the unsharables list increased by one that day.