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Chocolate heart

My dad gave me a chocolate heart the other day. I haven't eaten, just carried it around with me in my pocket. It's gotten a little worn in places, silver shining through the red foil. I like it think it makes it look cared for instead of neglected.

My aunt, my dad's only sibling, often sends him care packages. It's an immensely kind way to show that she's thinking of him and to try and bring him joy--not an easy feat these days. She ships them to me and I walk them over to my father's care home and help him open them. They're usually filled with sweets, especially chocolates, small toys, and puzzles for the mind. I help him pile out the non-edibles and set them gently on his coffee table. He then starts to open the candies and try them out. Sometimes they are new or, perhaps, simply new to him at this stage in his life.

He often offers me some, but since I dutifully wear a mask around him, I usually decline. The mask helps protect him from anything I may carry--especially COVID--as his health is quite fragile--his memory even more so. It also helps keep my expression more neutral, which I sometimes find I need when I'm feeling more stressed or distressed while visiting him.

Yet I accepted this chocolate heart. I'm not sure why, maybe the simple shape of it and what a heart can symbolize moved me. Maybe I was just tired of telling my dad no, even in a kind way. Maybe I thought I'd want chocolate later.

Whatever the reason, I have been carrying this chocolate heart around for over a week and have done nothing other than gingerly touch it in my pocket from time to time. I removed it from my pocket when it got too warm and malformed. I let it sit on a table until it hardened again. I've moved it from the table to a kitchen counter to protect it from the dogs I'm caring for right now, both for their sake and for the heart's.

I know that I should eat it or just throw it out, but neither option appeals to me.

Perhaps I'll move it back into my pocket, to keep it safe and close, even if it becomes misshapen again.

(Prompt by me)



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