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the first time I ever tried bittersweet chocolate.

I was soulmates with chocolate.

Eating the rich dark brown sweet until my stomach became angry with me.

One afternoon my father was baking a chocolate soufflé that required

bittersweet chocolate.

I had seen him use this mysterious bar

that lived in our kitchen cabinet many times before,

and always asked him if I could try it.

I wanted to be connected to my soulmate,

have the good days and bad days.

There was something about that time I asked,

where my father said

okay, but I warned you.

I dashed over to the light brown cabinets,

patiently waited,

for my father to take out the bar

that would forever change my perspective.

He broke off a small piece, and handed it to me.

I smelled it,

expecting it to smell rotten.

I put it in my mouth

and started to chew the mistake I had just made.

About two seconds later,

the partly chewed bittersweet chocolate was spinning down the sink drain,

mocking me to always listen to my father.

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