Sublime

“Of course I’m in your office. You’re not using it.” There’s a pause and I hear a drawer open. “You have more sticky notes than any man your age should.”

“This tastes like shit.” She drinks, and from my periphery, I see her nod. “Matches the day. Shit is the theme.”

She was eating a Three Musketeers Candy Bar. She was wearing tri-focal lenses in harlequin frames,

Email is blackmail with a .com on the end.

Now he was the dish of wrapped peppermints next to the cash register that I didn’t want because they were free.