Just after dusk on Duckworth it lay helpless, rapaciously ripped open on chilled pavement as self-absorbed pedestrians stepped over it — a Fry’s Turkish Delight wrapper. The shiny magenta hue with words exploding in some pseudo-exotic font, still flashy and attractive, no longer mattered much since the chocolate and rose jelly prized by consumers had been plucked. Should I discard the wrapper into the dumpster as a nod to planet beautifiers everywhere or leave it for the relief of a dateless dude
who might’ve drunkenly scribbled a ginger’s number on it or of a grieving teacher who might’ve wanted to safeguard the casing of the final cherished confection chosen by her recently deceased dad? The winter wind decided for me, carrying the wrapper into rush-hour traffic, where I last spotted it kissing an Uber driver’s rear tire.