Her chocolate digestives were gone.
“I labelled them,” she said.
“I saw,” he replied.
“Why are you eating them?”
“I’m peckish.”
“They aren’t yours.”
He held out a half-eaten biscuit. A peace offering.
“I’m telling HR.”
She stared, waiting for a flinch.
He didn’t.
Keeping eye contact, he munched her biscuit. Slowly.
She left.
next: 18. Drunk and Red Hot with Joy
previous: 17. Might Need a Second Biscuit
The published work is here. Marvel. Take it in. Enjoy.