Writing Boot Camp: Day 3

Mystery Cookie

For the past three months I've come into work and low and behold there is a cookie sitting on a napkin, on top of my keyboard. Not just any cookie, mind you. Oh no, one bite of this delicious morsel and your mouth is watering as it savors every last soft, buttery bite. I'm exaggerating, you say? Oh no - every last word is true, let me tell you. 

So imagine my disappointment when I come to work and there, where there has been for the last 90 some days, there is NO cookie. At first, I think "well, maybe it's been placed somewhere else." But no, the only thing on my keyboard is a slip of folded paper and a ticket stub of some kind. "Alright, who stole my cookie?" I glare over at the nearest coworker, staring her down in her freshly pressed suit that's a size 0. I inspect her jacket for cookie crumbs, but don't see any from this distance.  She looks away from my intense gaze, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes downcast. 

She looks guilty.

I reach down and unfold the piece of paper. 

Meet me at Hollington Station. 6:05pm. Tonight.

The ticket stub is for the MAX train, just up the street. I look back over at my coworker, who is now clickity-clacking on her keyboard. She still looks guilty. Very suspicious.