A Box of Chocolates

Today at work, I found an almost-empty box of chocolates behind the counter. It was one of those fancy ones with a bow and everything, not exactly something you find lying around. My first thought was to throw it away since it looked old and could be expired. But then my eyes caught the last few pieces that were still in there, dark chocolate truffles. Mmm... I’ve been having a rough week and felt like I deserved a little treat. So, I put on my apron with the little hidden pocket for receipts or random small items and slid the box inside. Now, here’s the kicker: we have a strict no-snacking policy unless it's part of inventory for sale. I know that’s the rule, but honestly, it felt like this one tiny bite wouldn’t matter. The chocolate has been calling my name all day. But every time someone comes close to where I hid it or asks me about it directly, I get so paranoid and nervous. It’s been hours since I found the box, and I’ve barely dared to look at it, let alone take a piece. Maybe tomorrow morning when no one is around? What if they find out and think less of me for this little lie? It’s just chocolate after all, but somehow, that doesn’t make the guilt go away.