Chapter 5: The Fridge is My Love Language
As I stood before the open door, a warm glow emanated from within, like a beacon of hope in the dark. The fridge, that stalwart companion to my every waking moment, beckoned me to come hither.
I reached in, fingers brushing against the chill of the shelves, and my heart swelled with affection. Ah, the fridge: a repository of wonders, a pantry of dreams.
The contents of the shelf, like tiny, plastic soldiers, stood at attention, their labels a riot of color and meaning.
I reached for the leftover lasagna, its congealed surface a testament to the love I'd lavished upon it. My love, it seems, was not just a feeling, but a hunger.
As I took a bite, the flavors exploded, a party on my tongue. Ah, the fridge: my heart, my soul, my everything.
Join the Leftover Lasagna Squad Read the next chapter: The Fridge is My Obsession