Sunday, June 18, 2006

"Love and Lunacy"

By Andrew Davis

She didn’t expect it. No one did. The only way anybody could tell what happened was by reading the note left on top of the empty box. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help myself - Bev.”

Halfway through her nine-hour shift, all Kaitlin wanted to do was escape to the break room and eat the precious Moon Pies she’d left on the table. She hadn’t had them in years. In college she would quietly eat some in the middle of the night, praying her roommate didn’t wake up when she noisily opened the plastic wrappers. Yesterday she came across some in the supermarket and couldn’t resist spending some time with an old flame. The way the chocolate smeared in the corner of her lips, how she would gently use her thumb to wipe it off. Deep down, she loved it when that happened. The marshmallow inside was her favorite part. She often teased herself by nibbling on its outer edges, sometimes taking twenty minutes to finish only one.

“Is this a joke?” she asked no one in particular. “I mean, she obviously could help herself if she took the time to get a pen and paper.”

Other co-workers sitting at the table tried controlling their laughter, but the hilarity of the note was too much.

“Hey, screw you, guys. It isn’t funny. I paid $3.29 for this,” Kaitlin said, holding up the flimsy cardboard with a note on it. “I mean, who leaves a note like ‘sorry, but I just robbed you?’”

Somebody answered, but Kaitlin couldn’t hear a thing. Her ears were clogged with rage.
After throwing the box in the garbage and walking out, she headed into the Yankee Candle room to use the Public Address phone. The overwhelming stench of “Meadow Mist” didn’t help her mental state.

***Attention, shoppers: Hi, my name is Kaitlin. First, before anybody else comes up to me and asks if I work here, I would like to let everyone know that, no, I do not. I just have an uncontrollable nametag fetish. Second, if you see a rug that you’re considering, just look at it - you need not step on it. Surprisingly most rugs do, in fact, feel the same. Third, if you ever happen to eat someone’s Moon Pies, do not leave a note saying you did it and the reason why. Don’t take away their ability to wonder, ‘hey, who the hell ate my food?’ Victims prefer mystery. It’s all they have. Thank you.***
Andrew Davis is a writer born and raised in Harlem, New York. He currently lives in Albany and is working towards becoming a English teacher...I mean an English teacher.

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