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A man is watching TV on his sofa.

The characters are young and sexy.

He doesn't feel young or sexy.

He feels empty.

In his mind, an image forms.

A bowl of chocolate ice cream.

He lifts the phone already in his hand and taps open a nap.

In just ten minutes, the dream will come true.

The milk from a cow in Vermont, sugar from Belize,

cacao beans from Ghana,

and then the other stuff to stop it going off, to keep it creamy and cheap,

soy leicin from Brazil, guagan from Pakistan, palm oil from Indonesia,

all in this little tub on a shelf in a fridge and a shop.

A supermarket worker grabs it, bags it and passes it to a young woman who slings it

into a box and then jumps on a bike. Meanwhile, the man on the sofa watches her on a cartoon map,

a little avatar peddling like mad towards his house. In reality, the young woman is sweating

and panting her way up a hill.

She rounds a corner a minute away from the address, when suddenly, BAM!

A boy jumps out directly in front of her, one arm stretched towards her.

She veers to avoid him, narrowly missing a motorbike and smacking onto the curb.

She shouts after the kid, but he's gone.

...