I have drunk the only Pepsi I allow myself this day. The heavy glass, sitting on a coaster to the right of my monitor, holds only unappealing watery soda and melting ice cubes. Will I avoid tossing fresh cubes from the freezer into the glass? Will I resist the temptation to open another twelve-ounce bottle? To pour the carbonated, bubbling, foamy beverage on top of and into the current dregs?
I will resist. I must resist.
The white and blue flexi-straw leans away from me.
The glass mocks me.
But I will not give in
. . . to my Precious (visualize Frodo's glaring stare in Mount Doom).
1 year ago