Tuesday, October 10, 2006


TODAY, WHEN I returned from lunch, I placed a small Vanilla Frosty on her desk. I knew she liked Vanilla Frosties.

She took her eyes off of her monitor, looked down at it, then quizzically up at me.

“What?" she said. "You didn’t want it?”

“No,” I said. “It’s for you.”

“Well, I mean," she stuttered. "I’m not even hungry.”

“Okay,” I said, and thought, That's why I got you a Small.

I handed her a spoon. Started for my cubicle.

“Hey," she yelled, quicker than a woman can change her mind. "Do you have a straw?”

“Yes,” I said, and gave her a straw.

A few moments later, I reappeared at her desk. She was smiling - eyes focused in her cup.

“You’re not used to people giving you things, are you?” I said.

“Wh- What? Why would you say that?”

“Well, when I gave you the Frosty, the first thing you said was, What, you didn’t want it?

"You assumed that I was giving you the Frosty because it was something I was rejecting – like I couldn’t have possibly bought it just for you.”

“Well, um, I guess you have a point,” she said, between sips. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” I said to her.

How sad, I thought, as I noted her half-empty cup.

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