Smitten by Ritter
Dear Ritter Sport,
When our love affair first began, I thought you would be a fleeting fancy, a one-night stand. Two years later, you and I have history. We’ve been up nights together writing essays on non-standard dialects of English. I’ve secreted off in the middle of the work day to nip a taste of you. You’ve laid low in the back of the pantry where only I would know of your existing, creeping my dainty fingers to your hiding place and breaking off little snippets of love all week long.
At first, it was cappuccino seduction: like coffee ice cream, sweet and lush, mellow and creamy… the muted crackle of chocolate crunching undertooth. What joy to eat with the hands.
And lately, oh naughty marzipan, your texture is that of finely ground coconut, with hints of almond flavor, your bright white essence peaking out from between slats of chocolate dark as night.
I’ll meet you at 9 tonight.