the ocean

My assistant has a lot of interesting qualities. She decorates her cubicle feverishly for every holiday from Presidents' Day to Arbor Day, and she follows my movements like the only Soviet spy not currently employed by the Trump administration. She eats her lunch in a corner conference room, where she takes off her shoes, puts her feet up on the desk, and tucks into a romance novel whilst spooning pasta salad from Tupperware. She changes screensavers frequently. But perhaps her most deep and abiding quality is that she loves popcorn. And she loves to make other people eat it.

The tin of Garrett's had barely arrived on Tuesday before she sent me an email urging me to come have some. I didn't even have time to respond before she knocked on my door holding a bowl of it. My protestations that I wasn't hungry fell on deaf ears. And I had no sooner finished than she stopped by to offer me seconds. "It's gotta go," she said. "And it'll be best while it's fresh." I tried to put her off by promising to come by for some in the afternoon, but she was not deterred. "Just take it now," she said. "You can eat it whenever."

Which is how I ended up with two bowls of popcorn hidden in my desk drawer. I'd throw it away, but I'm too afraid that she might go through my trash. Perhaps I can use it in some sort of craft project? I realize this is an odd problem to have, but so is she.