"please be careful, the plate's hot!" the waiter says as he leaves the baked pasta in front of you.
you make the mental note that the plate's hot. after all, it probably just came out of the oven and the top layer of cheese is still bubbling. it must be scorching. don't touch it.
but somehow, some sort of twisted curiosity drove your fingers towards the edges of the plate.
"is it really? i mean, i can feel the heat from here radiating and it is sizzling but really?"
your fingers lost control. like a reflex it went closer and closer. your heart racing with excitement. like watching a horror when the suspense music plays and you just know a ghost is gonna show up somewhere, but where? under the table? behind the door?
you just have to find out for yourself don't you.
*dum dum dum dum dum dum*
****!
yes it is bloody hot. you were warned but refused to comply. your stubborn head (or in this case, fingertips) just needs to feel it.
so what are you left with? the validation and looking like a fool with a burnt finger in the restaurant.
but somehow, after a few times, you listen. the 'few times' will have to depend on how painful the contact was, though. you dont even need to be told when you start looking out for signs. you might even go to the extent of warning others DO. NOT. GO. NEAR. IT.
hey you're now the expert.
but you need to get burnt. because that's how it works.
*shrugs*
