Mini Me

Demyan 

"When you come home can you please get me that chocolate sauce I love and a jar of pickles? The nice pickles Demyan, not those weird ones you bought for me last time," Malia spoke through the speaker of my phone as I had it rested on my desk as I blankly stared at a file I had been paging through for what felt like hours. 

"Malia, pickles are pickles," I sighed knowing that a lecture was coming through. 

"It's the principle! The brands are different and therefore they are made different," she protested. She kept quiet for a few seconds as I could hear the wobble of her lower lip already. "You don't know what it feels like when you're craving something so you ask your boyfriend to bring it home for you after work. You're excited the whole day and he brings the wrong one that makes you gag. It hurts Demyan."