I Hid in the Laundry Room and Ate a Cookie Over the Sink

Dear Delyara, I did not want anyone to ask me for half of it. That’s the truth. It was one chocolate chip cookie in a plastic container from the grocery store, and I stood in the laundry room with the door half-closed, eating it over the utility sink while the dryer thumped behind me like I was doing something shameful. Maybe I was. Not because of the cookie. Because I needed one small pleasure to go all the way from my hand to my mouth without becoming communal, practical, or interrupted. No one saying, “Can I have one?” No one turning it into a family moment. No one asking if there were more. I ate the whole thing in six bites. Then I stared at the crumbs in my palm and felt this awful sadness rise in me. If one hidden cookie can feel like freedom, something is wrong. Or at least too crowded.