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Friday, November 4, 2011

8 pm

It is 8 pm on any given night.

The kids have just been tucked in tight; little arms wrapped around my neck in strong bear hugs, one more kiss, "I love you's", and I sneak out the door.

My willpower is strong, but my cravings are stronger.

My mouth is watering; I try to ignore it.

I can hear it, whispering my name, so quietly at first; louder with each passing minute.

I am weak.

I cave.





It melts in my mouth; the chocolatey goodness that satisfies my sweet tooth like nothing else can.

I am weak.




This week I want you to take me to your version of 8:00 -AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less.
I promise to say, “I knew it!” when I read your post.

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