“Mail call. Someone throws a box on his bed. Curling, feminine handwriting addressed to Bobby. Cinnamon and chocolate wafts from the paper. Bobby’s fingers trace the letters of his own name, trace the grease spots starting to shine through the brown wrapping paper. You’ll see, Adam had said. Someday. Bobby’s hands shred the paper and reach for a fistful of cookies, shoving them against his lips. Someday, Adam said. Someday.” LonelinessFoodPoignantSmellsAway From Family Book:The Price of Cookies Source: The Price of Cookies