Toblerone
The first time I had a Toblerone was in the Jubilee auditorium with my mom. We were watching a touring broadway, Annie, and during intermission, we hyped each other up until she relented and bought one. It was one of those giant ones, and I remember breaking off a piece as the lights dimmed for the second act. Every time I saw or had a Toblerone after that, I thought about that night. It always brought me back to that memory, reminding me of the excitement and bliss of live theatre.
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This past November, during the last couple of weeks of in-person school, we went to a friend’s nearby house during the lunch break. Determined to finish one last episode of Death Note, we were cutting it pretty close to the bell but overall weren’t all that concerned. While walking back to the school, just chatting, I misheard something J said and ended up thinking she was talking about Toblerones. After my interruption and a dramatic shift in conversation, we all collectively went into a downward spiral about how we wanted a Toblerone, hyping each other up and contemplating if we should just run down to the gas station and be late for class.
Well aware that we wouldn’t have enough time to walk down, we knew we’d have to convince either A or F to drive; them being the only people in the group with cars and driver’s licenses. It didn’t take long until A caved in, and drove M down while the rest of us waited in the school’s common area, staring down the hallway for our two friends to come and save the day with chocolate.
The bell had rung, but we lingered, still staring down the hallway while the crowd of high schoolers dissipated, disappearing into nearby classrooms, or up the stairs and out of view. My friends reluctantly gathered their belongings, turning towards the biology classroom. I took a last hopeful glance at the hallway behind when I saw them. Two triumphant figures emerging from around the corner, holding Toblerone bars like prized trophies above their heads.
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Yesterday, M left a Christmas present on my front doorstep. It was a mug filled with a variety of chocolates and sweets, and after bringing it inside, I notice the Toblerone. This time, I don’t think of the Jubilee first. A wistful smile tugs at my lips and my eyes seek out the bear in the mountain. My mind reaches back to that memory in the back of our biology classroom, and my friend’s hushed delight when she finally makes out its yellow silhouette.