I’ve never had crepe in over a decade. But on the 12th, on a wedding of a friend and colleague, I absent-mindedly ate it.
The last time I ate one, I was with someone whom I thought I had feelings for. Over a decade down the road, I’ve never repeated eating this food — with any one or by myself. The sight and smell of it just unearths emotions I wouldn’t normally care about.
But I guess the absent-minded picking and eventual consumption of the crepe makes me eventually let go of the memories that he would normally not care about.