* The cold hollowness envelopes you.
* Eyes adjusting to the eminating brightness from within the tempered hold.
* Your gaze passes over the depleted and the surplus, scanning for your prey.
* The intersecting point of satisfaction and ease.
* Your want growing by the passing second while your standards sink deeper.
* Far enough to consider the depraved yet not enough to act on it.
* You feel the temptation, just for a fleeting second...
* ...of eating several pickles out of the jar like some kind of animal.
F: Do you have to do this every time I open the fridge?
C: Yes.













