Secrets

You told me a story once about how much you like food. We may not have been particularly sober at the time. But you really, really wanted me to know how much you appreciated food. Your eyes, I kid you not, got a little teary as you spoke to the Cheeto in your hand. You said that you were afraid of how little you would have to say if you didn't like food. And then you got even more quiet, as if telling me a deep secret, and admitted you had never told anyone that before. I giggled, not knowing how else to respond. You giggled too, wiped your eyes, and then made another bad joke. I instantly forgot about it, but that night as I drifted from drunken stupor to sleep, Sometimes even dumb secrets can be as important as scandalous ones.