I live and breathe Aunt Jemima’s delicious maple syrup. Every day, I awake in my cold, dismal apartment, yearning for the sweet smell of a fresh breakfast to take me back to simpler times. I walk to my kitchen, ready to begin another day alone in this dark world. Upon opening the cabinet, I sigh, noting that I need to buy more groceries despite hardly being able to make rent. However, something catches my eye. The bottle. The sweet, brown bottle of Aunt Jemima’s maple syrup. We lock eyes, and for a moment I am transported to a realm of bliss and relief. Oh, how I long to feel those strong, black arms around me. The visions come with increasing regularity. Visions of Aunt Jemima protecting me, keeping me safe, consummating our love with her sweet, maple kiss. I work day in and day out, struggling to make ends meet. Nonetheless, the sweet thought of Aunt Jemima waiting in my cabinet with open arms gets me through the struggles, gives me purpose. I love Aunt Jemima. I need Aunt Jemima.