Text: “Don’t eat all the pecans, I’m making a pie later.”
Me, a fool, eating all of the pecans: “Sorry, stolen phone. No idea who this is.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay,” I eat the last of them, “No problem.”
I run to the store. I have a meeting in an hour, the store is 5 minutes away. Plenty of time.
“Excuse me? Where are the pecans?”
“Oh, we ran out like an hour ago.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Yeah. Maybe Other Store.”
I go to the other store. They are also out. I try a third store. I am pleading with vendors, I am thrust into the spiral of shame and horror as the curse of hubris and my love of snacks dooms me. I am bereft of the last vestiges of humanity, left to wander the streets, a mad ghoul, mumbling about unmeetable needs.
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Fibromyangela 