I had a boyfriend once who made me gain two pants sizes.

What I remember most about him is in terms of food. He was defined by sugary Krispy Kremes kisses that sprinkled crumbs down my shirt and salty lips that made my mouth sting. I used to nibble on his fingers, wanting to swallow him and keep his sweetness on my tongue forever.

Sometimes he’d slip a Hershey’s Kiss into my pocket and I’d find it during math class, slightly squashed and oozing melted chocolate onto my jeans. To me, they were gems. I had a small crowd of misshapen sweets gathered at the top of my locker. He saw them one day and laughed, his tongue bright red from a half-finished Lifesaver.

“You love me too much,” he said.

I agreed wholeheartedly, and kissed his sweet red mouth, fiercely hoping that he’d never leave me. He twined his fingers in my hair and promised to bring me Oreos tomorrow.

“With milk?”

“Of course. Oreos have to be eaten with milk.”

“Skim?”

“Yes.”

I pinched at the thickening fat around my middle and stole one last kiss before I left.

He approached me the next day, holding out Oreos and a carton of milk like a peace offering. We sat. His hand nervously brushed against my cheek.

“I don’t know how to say this,” he began.

I stopped mid-bite. A crumb landed in my lap.

“We’re moving. Next month.”

I swallowed slowly. The cookie formed a lump in my throat.

“Where?”

“California. My dad got a job offer… it pays well.”

I was a statue, the half-eaten Oreo crumbling to dust in my clenched fist. He uncurled my fingers and kept talking.

“I don’t want to go. I’m so sorry.”

I dropped the Oreo on the sidewalk and brushed the crumbs off my lap. He looked at me pleadingly.

“Please.”

I kissed him once, slowly, tasting salty tears.

“You’ll write?”

“Of course,” he repeated.

I stood, the last of the Oreo crunching beneath my feet. He hugged me once, very tightly, and then walked away without looking back. I watched him go. In my pocket, there were five silver Hershey’s Kisses. I took them out, unwrapped them, and ate them, one by one.