The day was too beautiful to think that anything sinister was even possible. The bright blue sky, the color of Frank Sinatra’s eyes, had shifted to indigo-black satin with sparkling diamonds as we sat down to dinner in the airport diner. It was the perfect ending to a long and lovely day.

I felt the storm clouds roll in and a heaviness settled in the air. I glanced around and saw chatting diners enjoying their meals while loud pop music fought to be heard amongst the clinks of silverware on plates and nonstop airport announcements. The molecules outside of my immediate sphere took on a slightly slower momentum and I observed everyone else moving just a bit more slowly than they had been a moment ago. Even the sounds registered more muted as I tried to reconcile with the heated argument in my head.

No one else seemed to notice as I stood the edge of a deep and murky swamp. A slimy hand slid up my leg, it’s bony fingers probing and curling around my ankle and knee. The hand shifted and I felt the fingers wrap and travel up my wrist, elbow, then collarbone. My throat tightened when I felt the familiar burning sensation as I gulped sweet air … no, not air — Pepsi.

I’d made it 24 days but today I decided to test my resolve. Tacos are my Achilles’ heel. I knew I would not be able to eat this dinner without falling off the soda wagon so I had been avoiding my husband’s favorite meal for almost a month for that very reason. The aromatic smell brought to us to this spot so we stood outside the restaurant and made a guilty agreement to share one glass of soda.

I took two drinks total. I found so much pleasure in those two swallows that I knew for certain that I was looking right into Satan’s asshole and still thought it looked inviting enough to want to live there forever.

I put the glass down and pushed it towards my husband and asked him to finish it. He gulped it down as I watched with a longing in my eyes I’m sure other diners thought was directed at my spouse and definitely not the glass he held to his lips. He set it down and I was mesmerized as the left over liquid rolled down the sides of the glass and collected on each other until there was a lighter, diluted version spread thinly between the ice cubes.

I was fighting the urge to lick the inside of the glass when our server walked over and offered us a refill. My pupils may have dilated to solid black, I can’t be sure, but I do know that I saw my husband contemplating a full body tackle on me.

Check, please!

Tomorrow, I start again.