After I ate my breakfast this morning, there was an unexpected, incidental occasion of explosion, which budded on the right side of the tongue, on the smaller region leaning toward my tongue’s tip. It was a sudden, but mild sensation; an insipid, cold and ignorable throb that, after a trice of innocence and confusion, had quickly ignited into an uncontrollable fire disaster and spread like electricity all over the interior of my mouth.
What could I have eaten? Urgently I eye-searched amongst a bunch of confusing, stained wrapping papers and paper cups for the lurking criminal. It must have been a spice. Red pepper. Or a sauce. Spicy sauces that the lady in the cafeteria often sprinkled by habit onto whatever it was that I ordered.
The spice, or whatever it was, quickly drove me to the state of relentless craziness. In my visual mind, my mouth was exploding; fire emanated from the back of my tongue was engulfing my flesh tissues, melting my frail nerves. Water- Shouted my mind. I need water. Without hesitation, I stood up and veered like a mine detector toward the possibly closest water source- a thing that never really had a clear definition in the casual course of my life.
The search did not took so long before I found a water fountain (yes, the epic fountain of salvation) in Alston building. I hunched over, clung onto the metallic basin, let the water wash away the fire, pain, my agitation.
As my nerves were restored to equanimity and normal functionality, I started to remember the “spartan” breakfast that I had: a veggie burger and a cup of yogurt. I witnessed with my own eyes the process of the burger being made and with solid certainty could conclude that no spices or chemical spices were added. Moreover, after finishing the burger, I read a couple of pages from my history book before starting on the yogurt cup. It must have been the yogurt, then. I thought but then wasn’t so pleasant at this inference. How could it be possible that a spicy thing is “dropped” into a yogurt cup?