The Lies We Keep

I'll never forget the day I snuck into the kitchen and ate a whole bag of cookies that were meant for my sister's birthday party. She was away at college, so it was just Mom and Dad home. The box was still on the counter with a big bow when I walked in after classes, hungry and exhausted. Without thinking, I grabbed the package and hid behind the fridge to devour them one by one. When I finished, all that was left was an empty box with crumbs. I felt awful lying to Mom about never touching it, but my stomach had been grumbling for hours. It's such a petty thing, but every time I see her unpacking treats now, guilt washes over me like I got caught in the act.