I ate too many pringles.

I had popped that little lid of that long, smooth can.

Peeled back the soft, smiling paper covering.

And helped myself to just one.

Just one.

Sour cream and chive.

Sour cream.

And chive.

I threw it onto my hungry tongue.

Dripping with desire.

I deserved it.

The tangy powder atop the duck-billed crisp shook my taste buds.

Saliva spewed forth from my pulsating gullet.

I closed my eyes. The ripe summer air spun around my pursed lips. Everything was good again.

I took the tiniest sip of San Pel.

Oh go on then, I said.

Just one more.