Long after all the chocolates were eaten, and the cousins had gone, we kept the chocolate-box in the linen-drawer in the dining-room sideboard, waiting for some ceremonial use that never presented itself. It was still full of the empty chocolate cups of dark, fluted paper. In the wintertime I would sometimes go into the cold dining room and sniff at the cups, inhaling their smell of artifice and luxury; I would read again the descriptions on the map provided on the inside of the box-top: hazelnut, creamy nougat, Turkish delight, golden toffee, peppermint cream.
The speaker reflects on a chocolate box that was once filled with treats enjoyed during a family gathering. Even after the chocolates were consumed and relatives departed, the box lingered in the sideboard, filled only with the memories of its former contents. It became a symbol of waiting for an occasion that never came, each empty cup a reminder of the past.
In winter, the speaker would revisit the box, drawn by its lingering scent of sweetness and luxury. They would peruse the descriptions of the chocolates that once delighted their taste buds, evoking a sense of nostalgia for a time of joy and celebration, highlighting the contrast between fleeting pleasures and lingering memories.
