a little hole formed in the curtain that separates fresh yogurt from spoiled curds. the expiration date began to leak through.
on monday, i noticed all the tubs and cups of yogurt in the grocery store were only seven days away from going bad. i splurged on a thick greek yogurt and ate it right away.
on tuesday, i saw the store clerk stocking the refrigerated shelves with new yogurt, but the expiration date printed on every single one was tomorrow’s date. i pointed this out to him, but he smiled and said, Tomorrow’s another day.
at night, waiting for sleep, i thought of all the yogurt soon to fill the trash bin. certainly they would still be firm and white, smooth skins behind their protective foil covering. the summer sun would make them stink within a few hours. a stronger, fouler scent than old milk. maybe they would huddle together, even seeking some discarded sorbet, hoping to preserve their cool a few minutes longer. and the active yogurt cultures, what would become of them? would they enjoy the warmth, and spread fast and furious until they made their plastic prisons burst? or did they also prefer cold storage? when i woke, i meditated, then fasted in honor of the dead yogurt. the granola was lonely that morning.