Bright, colorful, shaped like swirls and stars and cubes, coated in shimmering glaze and fine crystal sugar. They're almost too pretty to eat… almost. You pop one into your mouth and your whole body jolts in delight. It's sweet beyond reason — so pure it almost stings your tongue.
You buy more. A bag. Then two.
You ignore the price. You just need more. The flavor feels electric. It lights up your brain, tingling in your gums, buzzing behind your eyes.
You don’t remember how many you eat. Ten? Twenty? A hundred?
Soon you’re out of money. You fumble through your pockets, trying to find just one more coin. Nothing. You stare at the empty bag in your hands. It’s not enough. Your body craves more. Desperately. You can’t stop thinking about it. The taste still lingers on your teeth.
Then you smell it.
Sweetness. Close by. Left behind.
You whip your head around and see a man tossing a half-finished swirl cone into a trash bin near the food tent. Your feet move before you think. You dig in.
You pull out the sticky mess and shove it into your mouth, ignoring the bits of wrapper and melted sugar crust. It's still sweet. Still good. Still everything you want.
You come back again. And again. Waiting near bins. Watching for leftovers. Hoarding. Snatching.
You don’t notice how your fingers have grown longer. Your nails sharpen into tiny claws. Your nose twitches at every passing scent. Your striped furry tail — when did you get a tail? — flicks behind you in excitement whenever sugar is near.
Your thoughts get sharper and simpler. You stop worrying about money. About appearances. You stop thinking in full sentences. Just feelings. Wants. Cravings.