School: High School of Dundee
I know I haven't given you a Christmas present in years. Before, my presents would be the sort you would expect: pink bracelets, woollen scarves. However, this year, I want to give you something that really means something. Although there is no tag, no signature to this note, you will know who this is from, and why I sent it.
Inside, is hot chocolate powder. Just enough for one drink. Take the mug I got you for your ninth birthday. Boil the water, pour it in, take a sip. At first it is sweet, and warm, and perfect. But then it overwhelms you, the sickly flavour making you feel queasy, thirsty for something more. So you leave it. Drink some water. It is satisfying, but never enough.
You will find it, still sitting there, tepid and half-full, but still the same rich flavour, still leaving you with the same content feeling.
But eventually, you will finish it. The warmth gone. Though still, there are the grainy lumps of a friendship no longer there. A smile in the corridor, a stilted, awkward conversation that is best ended. In time, though, you will wash out the mug, scrub it clean of us, fresh for use again. However, the scent of our friendship will still cling to me, cling to you. And then one day, you will use that mug again.
But maybe, just maybe, you will still taste the faint sweetness of hot chocolate.