I have a serious addiction.
I am addicted to Weetos.
For those not in the know, Weetos is a new cereal from the makers of Wheatabix. Like a grainy chocolatey version of Cheerios.
I've blown through several big packets of this chocolate heroin in the space of a week. Conversation has become an unbearable interlude between bowls. The walk to the supermarket, hands shaking, withdrawal sweats. Squinting into the bright lights of Morrisons, my vision is blurred. I feel weak. I feel dizzy.
And then I see it.
At the end of the aisle; Weetos. Sweet, crunchy deviancy. I grab the precious and scuttle to the till.
I ignore the cashier's judgemental stare, her hand hovering over the secret security button under the till. Smoothing the sweat from my forehead, adjusting my dishevelled clothes I attempt a smile. Pennies exchanged for cereal. Success.
Home. Calm. Relieved. Giddy.
No milk.
No hope.
No point.
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