I want hummus so bad.
Imagine the creaminess on my tongue, kissing me softly, melting onto my palette. The vessel that is pita bread floats into my mouth, sending me to heaven. I swallow after touching the soft comfort of tahini and chickpeas. This is not food, not dinner. It is love.
Look at that olive oil drizzled on top. The hummus is sprinkled with the flow of red pepper.
The consistency is perfect – it lays on top of the plate, the bottom of the hummus melting onto cold china, yet it is firm enough to hold shape.
I give in. A pool of the best substance on earth stands beneath me, and I trust it, falling in backward. It feels like a hug. And as I sink in the hummus enters my mouth, covering my body, suffocating me with perfection, releasing me from the agony that is every second in my life I spend NOT eating hummus.
I feel the hummus hugging my torso with a cold embrace. The pressure reminds me of a heavy blanket but even cozier. I start rising up from the depths of the hummus, its strength pushing me out. How did that happen?
“I love you”, the hummus pronounced his love with his deep voice.
He’s alive.
“I love you back.”
(The end)