A Matter of Pressure

A heavy ceramic mug of black coffee sat cooling in the morning light, beside an open sleeve of dark chocolate squares. The block was thick, scored with geometric grooves. I stepped onto the porcelain saucer, planted my sandals firmly, and gripped the raised rim of the chocolate bar with both hands. One sharp snap against the table's edge broke off a clean rectangular piece. I tipped the dark slab upright, balancing it diagonally against the steaming ceramic curve of the mug. The bitter steam rose, softening the brittle corner into a slow, dark sheen. A calculated indulgence.