A Black Magic childhood

black magicWhen I was a kid, Christmas wasn’t Christmas until the box of Black Magic chocolates appeared on the bar in the basement. It would usually show up around the beginning of December, and my brother and I would hover over it like flies until my dad pulled off the cellophane wrapper.

When he lifted the lid, there was the layer of crinkly protective paper lying like a stiff blanket atop the chocolates. We’d hungrily lift that too and there they were: little, pretty treasures nestled in a tray molded with custom-sized cradles.

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