Exchange

After leaving my lover by way of a kind but firm email, I cried for several hours. On receiving his sad but kind reply, I cried some more. Then I made a mug of strong tea and opened the box of butter biscuits that had come by post from his more-secret lover in Sweden the day before. I took out two, and carefully closed the cardboard flaps so that the remainder would not go soft. I bit into the first crumbly yellow biscuit and paused, admiring its simple form held between my thumb and forefinger in the sunlight of a spring afternoon; its happy, unequivocal presence gave me a deep pleasure, and I soon reached for the second biscuit. When I had eaten both biscuits I opened the packet again and took out two more. Now I noticed that the contents were divided into sections of four biscuits, each preserved in clear cellophane, as if the manufacturers had anticipated the perfect point for a girl with a broken heart to stop eating them. I picked up my phone and sent a secret email to my ex-lover’s secret lover thanking her for the extremely delicious biscuits.