Fifty Percent Air

Fifty Percent Air

Stepping out into the late morning sunshine, I blink, adjusting my eyes to the stark contrast from the artificial lights of my classroom.  I breathe deeply and savor the precious moments of break after three intense classes.  As I  crinkle the bag of hot sauce chips in my hands,  my mouth waters  in anticipation.

As I eagerly pull open the bag, the strong scent  of oil and hot sauce immediately wafts into my nose.  I pull out a chip, not caring about the grease or red dye, transferring onto my fingers, make a blessing, and take a satisfying crunch. The first chip has a special tingle on my tongue that I savor until it is gone, and immediately replaced by the next one.  My mouth is filled with constant flavor as the chips quickly disappear one by one.

Finally, I reach for the last chip in the bag and turn it around slowly in my hand.  I skillfully place it on my tongue and, almost regretfully, chomp it into oblivion.  The taste of the chip remnants, still resting on my palette, causes a strong craving for more.  Although I sadly have no more, I still have the corners of the bag to stick my finger deep into to find the remaining crumbs.

Once I finish the crumbs, I rip my bag down the seam, opening all its edges. I lick the spicy goodness off the foil inside of the bag.  Eventually, I fold the sticky bag-no-longer into a neat, tiny square and bring it to the garbage right behind the basketball hoop.

Satisfied, but slightly craving for more, I wonder if that unhealthy snack was worth the calories.  A bit guilty, I think about bringing a cut up fruit tomorrow instead, although I know that won't be likely. I comfort myself by remembering that the bag was half air anyway.