The Good Stuff

She put the bottles on the counter and eyed the chocolate. It was the dark stuff, the ones with the high cacao. Perhaps, she thought, if she bought something high enough, high in quality, high in cacao, that would help to keep her balanced. If she saved it for a snack for later, a dessert, a treat, and she knew it was the good stuff, knew it was high quality, then maybe that would keep her from going too far. If there was the chance she wouldn't remember, that she might wake up next to an empty wrapper with no recollection of what had happened. But who was she kidding, she thought, looking at the contents of her basket being whisked across the sensor. Good stuff never mattered much to her.