Succubus eats grilled cheese. (UPDATED @ LINE BREAK, WOOOO!)

	The succubus got up out of her office chair, stretching and yawning before picking up her lunchbox and heading toward the back end of the office. “I'll be taking my lunch break now. Ciao!”
	She pushes her way through a set of double doors, takes the elevator down to the first floor, and leaves through the front entrance of the building. She takes a seat on a bench positioned in front of a garden, and sets her lunchbox down, leisurely leaning back and crossing her legs. “It's so pretty outside.” She mutters to herself. It's spring, and the flowers are blossoming in beautiful colors and shapes. It's a shame she only has a few minutes to admire them.
	She undoes the clasps of her lunchbox, and removes her lunch: Two slices of cheddar cheese wedged between two slices of butter bread, tucked away comfortably inside of a plastic sandwich bag. She licks her lips, smiling at the perfectly prepared ingredients. However, this sandwich was missing something, a very special touch that drew out the truly decadent flavors of this intricate dish. Removing the sandwich from the bag, she mutters an incantation. Suddenly, the bread crackles, the sugar inside caramelizing from the intense heat. The cheese, though resilient at first, gives in to the sudden increase in temperature, melting and merging into a unified body of molten dairy goodness. The once ordinary and bland sandwich had been transformed into a rich, crisp delight, one whose taste and texture could not be bested by any other meal on earth. She took her first bite, the creaminess of the melted cheese, and the pleasant, earthy smell of the freshly-toasted butter bread brightening her mood like a candle held at the heart of a dark cavern. She closed her eyes, and imagined sharing this tasty treat with the world, as a five-star grilled cheese chef. She would be adored, no, worshiped by the culinary community as a god. She would have all of the money in the world, be known by everybody and their mother's mother, and have a loving, caring husband who would cherish her like no other.
	“Oh, hi Sophie. I guess you felt like having a picnic, too?”
	The succubus's immersion was completely broken by the dulcet tones of a coworker with whom she hardly talked, not out of disinterest, but out of sheer envy. Sophie couldn't even remember her name, only that she is a Lilim from the upper class, and thus completely oblivious to the simple pleasures of life. Without so much as an invitation, she took a seat on the other side of the bench.
	Sophie swallowed her bite of sandwich, folded her wings, and patted her lips with a napkin. “Yeah. It's nice out, isn't it?”
	The Lilim unpacked her lunch, a grossly decadent mini-charcuterie platter of exotic cured meats, cheeses born of a bizarre and opulent circumstance, and crackers so uniform in shape and incredible in flavor that they could be used as currency in some foreign continents. “The weather is nice, yes. Reminds me of home.”
	As she reached for a cracker, Sophie noticed the ring on the Lilim's left hand. “You're married?”
	“Yes, my husband and I were engaged last week. He's quite assertive, but that's what I like about him.”
	Sophie took another bite of her sandwich. “Ah, I see.”
	“We fell in love last month, after he complimented my cooking at a family luncheon.”
	A hint of envy was simmering in Sophie's gut. “Why was he at a family gathering?”
	“Oh, we had already been arranged to be married for years by our families. I simply didn't have an interest in him until recently.”
	“Because he complimented your cooking?”
	“Well, it helped that we had our first night together shortly after.”
	“And you did that because he complimented you?”
	“Not entirely because of that, but it certainly did help.”
	Sophie blinked away her anger and disbelief. “I see.”
	“Say, Sophie, have you found a man yet?”
	“Why do you ask?”
	“You always seem so happy, but I never hear about your romantic escapades. In fact, you're rather silent about most things.”
	“Ah. Well, no, I haven't found a man.”
	“Are you trying?”
	“Not really.”
	“Why not?”
	“Because.”
	The Lilim nudged Sophie with her elbow. “Come on! Surely, you have to be interested in someone!”
	“And if I'm not?”
	“That doesn't make any sense. You're a succubus.”
	“That's exactly right. I'm a succubus. Men come to me.”
	“And yet, none of them interest you?”
	“Is that really any of your business?”
	The Lilim suddenly dropped a piece of meat to cover her mouth. “Oh my, did something happen, Sophie?”
	“Again, is that your business?”
	“Of course it is! We need to keep up morale in the workplace. It's okay to open up to me. We're friends, right?”
	Sophie choked on a glob of cheddar.
	“Oh dear, are you okay?”
	“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.”
	“Seriously, Sophie, if there's anything wrong, we can-”
	“If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”
	The Lilim paused for a moment to thoroughly chew a small slice of cheese. “If it is that serious, then of course, and I apologize for my nosiness.”
	Sophie sighed deeply, closing her eyes. “For the record, I did have a man. We didn't go very far, though. I offered to make him lunch, and he wasn't happy with the result, so he left.”
	“Is that it?”
	“More or less.”
	“What did you make him?”
	“A grilled cheese. He said it was too boring.”
	“Really? A grilled cheese?”
	“Of course. They're delicious.”
	“But, for a date?”
	“Yes. Like I said, they're delicious. How could he not like them?”
	“What else could you have made?”
	“Why would I need to make anything else?”
	The Lilim pensively rested her chin in the nook between her thumb and index finger. “Sophie?”
	“What?”
	“Can you make anything else besides a grilled cheese sandwich?”
	“Do I need to?”
	“No, but can you?”
	Sophie puffed up her cheeks. “There's no reason for me to.”
	“In other words, you can't, can you?”
	Sophie balled up her fists. “Leave me alone.”
	The Lilim sighed, put away her lunch, and stood up. “Very well. I see you still have some things to work out. Please come talk to me when you see fit, and I'll be happy to help you through this.”
	“Whatever.”
	The Lilim, in her perfectly elegant gait, strutted away, leaving Sophie all alone once again. Sophie took another bite of her sandwich, a more aggressive, teary-eyed one, and chewed it with what felt like a tantrum of the mouth. She wanted to toss the sandwich on the ground, stamp it out, and curse a storm, but she had nothing else to eat. She couldn't eat anything else. That sandwich was all she had.
	In order to distract herself from her misery, she pulled out her phone. She tabbed through old photos, most of which were pictures of cute dogs she had taken while walking around the park.
	And then, a sad memory. A lewd selfie of herself, wearing nothing but an apron with the words “Devilishly delicious!” embroidered on the front. She looked confident enough to kill a lion with her bare hands. She had sent it moments before the date, an enticing offer that she was certain he couldn't refuse. It was going to be her first time socializing with a male, and it ended up her last.
	Grilled cheese was all she had. Despair had infested her mind once again, which then festered into a murderous envy. She didn't have an arranged marriage, as she wasn't powerful enough for that. She didn't have family dinners, because they had all grown sick of her one-dimensional cooking. She didn't have exotic and well-executed combinations of flavor, laid out piece-by-piece on plastic trays, she had an uncooked sandwich in a plastic bag, which she had to hand-cook with magic because she had no idea how to operate a sandwich press, oven, microwave or stove top without setting off a fire alarm in her apartment complex. She didn't get compliments for her cooking, because she couldn't cook. Yet, it was the only thing she did.
	Teary-eyed, she tossed the remainder of her half-eaten sandwich into the trash, and returned to work, stomaching her sadness until the end of the shift, where she cried in her car until she settled down enough to drive home.
	She sat on her phone for what felt like hours, researching and compiling each and every possible combination of cheese and bread one could possibly imagine. Her fingers were numb from tapping. Her eyes ached with strain, and stung with tears. By the end of it, she felt like she was about to break. She drug herself out to the grocery, where onlooking children were certain she was a foul creature that had emerged from a nearby closet, and was looking for naughty youngsters to punish. The market was as well-behaved as a church, the first time such a place had experienced such a tranquil atmosphere.
	Returning with her ingredients, she took a deep breath, and braced herself. This would be her final farewell to grilled cheese, and her first foray onto the path of culinary excellence.
	Oven-roasted strips of applewood bacon, a light spread of mayonnaise, a slice of gruyere, extra-sharp grated cheddar, beer cheese, fine crumbles of queso fresco, a hint of garlic powder, ground pepper, all perfectly proportioned and tucked between two generously buttered slices of potato bread, and pan-fried to golden perfection on a skillet. Resting atop a paper towel, she silently admired the beast of a sandwich, before gingerly removing it from its pedestal. With a single bite, she experienced heaven. Rich, creamy goodness, with a side of earthiness and savory flavor, all perfectly melding together in a tide of butter. She looked at herself in the reflection of the kitchen window, her cleavage proudly protruding, emphasizing the motto of her apron as the rest of it perfectly fell upon her shapely body. She smiled at herself, tears of newfound pride staining her weary eyes.

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