I remember when I first saw my favorite smile. A customer removed the samosa from my flat glass body, waiting nervously for an answer from across the table. At the spark of a "Yes", happy pearls beamed from between flushed cheeks as they sunk into the crispy snack.
Several cycles of soap and water passed by. Every weekend I'd excitedly watch flakes of dough pepper the smile as it ecstatically threw words and giggles to the other side of the table.
One night, salty rain fell alongside heavy words. The samosa was left untouched. I never saw the smile again.
Several cycles of soap and water passed by. Every weekend I'd excitedly watch flakes of dough pepper the smile as it ecstatically threw words and giggles to the other side of the table.
One night, salty rain fell alongside heavy words. The samosa was left untouched. I never saw the smile again.
