On temptation.

Here at Enthusiasms HQ, we only just realized last week’s email didn’t get sent—what the hell! We apologize for our oversight, but the good news is that you’ll get a bonus Enthusiasms in your inbox next week.

Anywho: Onwards!

<3 J

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This is the only correct combo, my friend said, holding a bag of candy in each hand as I met her in the theatre’s checkout line.

Reeses Pieces, Sour Patch Kids. The leftovers of both ended up in my backpack after the movie, and I stashed them in the jar on our counter where we keep all our sweets.

Neither were long for this world. Are you bored or are you just hungry? A sinister concept, imparted from the pages of so many magazines. Both, actually, so maybe fuck off! For a couple days, I craved the soft click of candy shells, chocolates eaten by the handful.

Toward the end I found, in one helping, a glob of sour sanding. Forbidden Sour Patch Kid, I sent along with a picture of it in my palm. It looked like a rock, craggy and white amid the colorful gummies, and I delighted a bit at how it made it so far unnoticed.

I dare you, someone said, and I thought about it. Imagined it cracking beneath my teeth—or maybe I’d suck on it until it dissolved, like a hard candy? I remembered the Warheads of my youth, how they burned my tongue until I could barely taste anything. I decided, this time, maybe I’d rather not.