I brushed shoulders with strangers as I walked down the local supermarket. I ignored all of them. I knew I needed to keep going. I needed to get to you. I made my way to the back of the store to the freezer section, and down a familiar aisle. I turned and found you. You were my favorite and always would be, Pepperoni and Sausage Pizza Hot Pocket. I leaned with my shoulder against the cool freezer door, wondering how it could be so cold in there when you were so hot. I gently tugged the handle and felt a rush of cool breeze. But I ignored it. Nothing would keep me from you now. Not when I was so close. I reached out to you, gently caressing your cardboard box. I held you in my arms, carrying you to the checkout, where I bought you and brought you home.
I left you in the freezer while I went to work, but every time my stomach growled I imagined your warmth, your spice, the taste of you on my tongue. I rushed home that night, pulled you from the cold freezer, and carefully opened your box. I blushed when I saw you outside of your crisping sleeve, but I continued to open your clear plastic wrapper and slide you into it. I read your message to me: "Nice to quality meat you!" and I whispered back, "Yes. It certainly is." I laid out a small plate for you and carefully moved you onto it. I pulled open the microwave and placed you inside. I closed the door and felt a pang of guilt, but I needed you. I punched in 2:00 on the keypad and waited, watching you spin around and around and around until the long beep signaled that you were done. A large blob of cheese bubbled from one end of you, and your plate was too hot to touch. I waited, and pulled you from the microwave. I closed the flap of your crisping sleeve and held you up to my perfectly glossed lips. And now, I'm telling you, I will devour you.
