The Breast that got Away It laid there, golden brown and mouth-watering…the aroma of all twenty-three spices screaming their presence in its strongest silence. He listened to her while observing the breast…wondering why life had gotten so complicated in such a short period of time. He was racked by confusion. Inner turmoil pulled him in different directions as sections of his brain screamed: “IVES!” Never had such a small decision tormented him so. He loved her, and wanted her to know how much he needed her, but he couldn’t see how giving her his last could prove his love to her. So, he hesitated. As she talked, he eyed the breast, hungrily. All he wanted was to get it in his mouth…to wrap his lips around each tender morsel, to relish its taste as it made its way across his sensitive taste buds. But each time he summoned the nerve to do so, she would smile at him, as if to say, “That’s my breast and you will never touch it.” She sat across from him, smiling…her legs crossed…her eyes dancing. The breast was laid out in front of her, like the carrot that urged on the horse. With the last of his will power fading, she lifted the breast to her mouth and nibbled. Every fiber of his being cried out, “NOOooo!” Silently, he watched as she slowly inserted the breast into her mouth, savoring its sweetness. “Hmmm,” she moaned, as its full flavor hit her. As he watched her place the breast in her mouth a second time, he considered taking it out of her hand…snatching her by her fake braids and tossing her out of his house. But he did nothing. As these conflicting emotions raged inside him, he grimaced…trying, unsuccessfully, it seemed, to maintain control of himself. Noticing his expression, she exclaimed, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want that?” It was 9:00pm. Other than the two wings and a dinner roll that accompanied the breast, Ives hadn’t eaten all day. He was in the middle of this fast food mini-feast when the door bell rang. He had answered it, intending to get rid of whoever it was, quickly, so he could finish his meal. When he saw who it was—Virginia, his fiancé—however, he had no choice but to invite her in. it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, he did. He just wanted to finish his meal in peace. With her around, he knew that would be impossible. She liked to play, to have fun, as she called it. It is said that, “A man would give the woman he loved his last bite of food…because she asked for it.” But where does it say that his love is any less valid if he doesn’t?