David’s stomach sunk. It regretted every bar of chocolate it had ever eaten.

If only he knew.

David had always been a kid with a little too much freedom. Try something crazy in the kitchen here, play in that ditch there, think about stuff he shouldn’t have seen yet everywhere. Sometimes it seemed that he wasn’t really a kid anymore. Just a teenage brain moving faster than his body.

If only he knew.

Regardless, he still loved to indulge. He had an eye, he’d say, for quality chocolates. Ghirardelli set the minimum standard. Lindt was a bit better. Small-name and locally-made brands were best. Hershey’s and Nestle were unacceptable.

If only he knew.

So when a brand new store, letters on the window saying “CANDY” in big bright letters, opened in his small town where barely anything happened, David was absolutely stoked. He dashed into the store with the little pocket money he had the first Friday afternoon he could. He made it to heaven when he realized that he didn’t easily recognize any of the brands in the store.

If only he knew.

Suddenly, those chores his parents literally couldn’t even pay him to do were gone. He begged them to give him overti- er, extra chores. He’d do tasks for his neighbors, or for strangers. He’d even do embarrassing dares at school if the pay was good enough. Anything for a little more money. Anything to taste every bit of chocolate in that store, maybe even some of the gummies or lollipops if he got interested enough.

If only he knew.

He quickly became a regular. The owner was fat and balding, but surprisingly well-dressed. He had a good sense of humor too. Just asked people to call him Toffee instead of a real name. The two were fast friends. David would ask about any new candies (there usually weren’t, but sometimes yeah), and Toffee would ask about school and his classmates. The one thing Toffee never shared was the stuff in the back. That was special somehow. Oh well, it would eventually come out to the front anyway.

If only he knew.

He didn’t really notice when some kids suddenly started moving. When he did, he didn’t care. They were usually jerks anyway.

If only he knew.

One ordinary Monday, David walked into his favorite candy store. He had felt like white chocolate, as he always did early in the week. For the first time, he was the only kid in the shop.

If only he knew.

Toffee already had four bars of white chocolate at the ready. On the house, he said, for being his best customer. In other words, it was free.

If only he knew.

For being his best customer, Toffee said, he would let him have one special sweet from the mythical back room. David agreed in a heartbeat.

If only he knew.

As they moved farther into the store, the yellow beams of sunlight were gradually replaced with a bluish green fluorescence. It was apparently a special kind of light that helped preserve “delicate treats.”

The back room most definitely did not contain candy.

All of a sudden, Toffee was offering him a weird sort of syrup in a spoon. It smelled like cocoa. David deserved the best service, Toffee said, and he would hate to give him the normal stuff.

Unable to think, David put the spoon in his mouth. The syrup was the most delicious chocolate fondue he had ever had. Cocoa, cinnamon, licorice, and even a dash of vanilla gloriously combined.

The syrup burned.

Toffee was happy. David had had the only sample of his best creation yet. A kid of his quality would make the best candies.

If only he had known.