Creeping into the kitchen my sock-clad feet whisper over the linoleum floor, deftly avoiding the squeaks that would end this quest. The fridge looms before me, a black tower beckoning to me like the temple of a forbidden god. My lips are dry and I lick them in anticipation, knowing what lies in side. Closer I slink, a peek won’t hurt. Nobody will ever know.

The hinge creaks with the weight of the condiments as I carefully peel the seal away from the door. The fluorescent light blinds me, but then it’s there. In all of its two-tiered glory. My birthday cake.

I want it so badly I can taste it. The sugar-sweet cream frosting, the moist spongy chocolate cake, the velvet of the fudge sliding over my tongue. My finger moves of its own accord, surely nobody will know if I taste a tiny bit? Some frosting off the back, they’ll never know it’s gone.

But that’s not the end, no. One taste is not enough. It sends a rush of sugar to my head, pure manna. The carefully crafted border has disappeared.