& Macarons

Story by Andrea Liu

| SHORT WRITING CONTEST

I am eating macarons. Bright confetti colors, they beam at me from a plastic tray with a plastic film covering them. I eat one from every column, the different flavors crunching in my mouth because they’d accidentally been put in the freezer for an hour or two. I wasn’t the one who’d done that. I’d been the one wandering through Costco with an overflowing cart buying enough food to last us for two weeks, my little brother claiming that he needs three boxes of croissants, so naturally when I got home I immediately plopped down somewhere comfortable and forgot to do my weekend homework. I didn’t sort the food between fridge and freezer.

My dad, splitting macarons with me because neither of us wants to feel guilty for eating so many, complain that they’re too sweet. It’s kind of funny, because I remember a person - though I don’t remember who - claiming that they didn’t like macarons because they had little flavor. In this case though, they really are sweet. Maybe because they were put into the freezer for an hour or two by someone who isn’t me. Or maybe just because it’s a different brand. Or maybe that person back then just hadn’t been able to tell over a cup of hot chocolate in a small café on a chilly, windy day. Who knows? It’s a mystery I can’t be bothered to solve. 

Why do I like macarons? I don’t know, but I bite into another anyway. Who do I always grab the lemon one first? I don’t know, maybe because when I was younger those yellow Skittles were my favorite and lemonade and that lemon loaf I love from Starbucks. The lemon-flavored things disappoint me sometimes nowadays but they remind me. 

I try to give my dad the remaining bit of the white chocolate macaron because I’ve already eaten four other flavors. He refuses, so it disappears into my mouth. In the plastic box with the plastic film covering it a nice white row has replaced six bright confetti colors. It’ll remain that way until I’m in the mood to eat macarons again.