December was a blur of late nights and overflowing plates. The endless parties, the non-stop celebrations. The cannoli cake. The cinnamon rolls. The homemade caramels.
Grandma Paul’s Chocolate Sheet Cake.
By Boxing Day, the button of my pants hadn’t seen the slot since Thanksgiving.
By New Year’s Eve, I’d descended to sweatpants and oversized tunics.
I was in the throes of addiction, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was time to confess. Time to come clean.
I opened the door, took a seat and said those pivotal words:
“My name’s Karen and I’m a sugar addict.”
This has been an edition of the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the generous and talented Rochelle Wisoff Fields. To read more 100-word flash fiction inspired by the prompt, click the blue froggy button.