My mouth still tastes like cherries.

Standing under too-bright lights in a gas station store so quiet I can hear them humming, my eyes slowly slide over countless, colorful packages of gum. My hand closes around the few rumpled bills in my pocket.
Waste of money really…

I lean a bit closer, squinting for a better look and examine a brand that’s wrapped in streamlined black.
It’s the most expensive, but price doesn’t guarantee that it’s any better…

I seize a pack of cinnamon gum.
At this rate I’ll stand here for hours, and price is as good a reason as any to choose.
I pay a pimply middle aged man and push my way out the door, into the cool, crisp night. Peering at the gum, I’m still impressed by the sleek packaging.
Closer to two dollars had better be worth it…
I tear open the package.
The sharp cinnamon scent burns my nostrils.
As I chew, I ponder the oddity of late night gum runs. I have a reason for this strange sort of behavior though…

I want to set his mouth on fire.