Last night, I was lying idly on my couch when I heard a knock at my door. I answered, and found my roommate standing there with his hands full, unable to fish out his keys and unlock the door himself. I got out of the way as he hobbled in carrying his laptop bag, dinner, cell phone, and approximately $90 worth of laundry and dry cleaning (no joke… dude has a LOT of clothes).
I retreated to the couch as he shuffled around the apartment and his bedroom, unwinding from his day at work. After a few moments, he emerged from his room and asked, “Hey, have you seen my food?”
“Nope,” I replied, taking a cursory glance around the room.
“I have no clue where I put it.”
After eyeing the living room and kitchen, he retreated back into his room, and a few minutes later, began laughing uncontrollably.
“Dude you have to come see this.”
“Just explain it,” I said, not wishing to get up AGAIN.
“I can’t. Just come.”
I walked into his room, and my eyes shifted to where his finger pointed. There, nestled in his closet, miraculously pinned alongside his newly washed shirts, was his foot-long Subway sandwich.
