I have found four cookies.

One is white; one has frosting; one has sprinkles; but the last one, what is it?

Is it oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip? I can't tell.

It sits there, looking innocent, yet it isn't, because I don't know which it is.

The only way to figure out what it is, I must take a bite, yet I can't make myself.

I leave.

When I come back, three of the cookies are gone, but that cookie is still there.

It is a stubborn cookie, refusing to reveal its true flavor.

I can't take it.

I grab that cookie and take a bite.

A sweet, chocolaty flavor fills my mouth.

I smile.