Cookie

Another fun prompt response.

A cookie. How curious.

I sat in my desk and stared at the cookie. Was it for me? It had to be. I was the only one who sat in this desk, right in front of the professor's podium. And more, it was my favorite flavor of cookie, snickerdoodle. No, this cookie was meant for me, and meant to be consumed by me.

So I ate the cookie. It was delicious. And it was the first of many delicious cookies to come. Every day, for weeks, I was welcomed to class with a soft and delightful snickerdoodle cookie. The cookie always tasted fresh, and rarely did I ever question its origins or its purpose. I just knew that I was lucky enough to eat a free cookie day after day.

After some time, these mysterious cookies became the highlight of my day. All other food fell short to the happiness that was achieved by eating those snickerdoodle cookies. I found myself dreaming of those cookies. My life had begun to revolve around these cookies. 

It was the last day of the semester when it happened. I walked into my classroom and, like any other day, my eyes were drawn to the surface of my desk to confirm the presence of that cookie. Confusion set in, however, when my eyes fell on an empty desk surface. I panicked. Where could my cookie be. Did the mysterious giver of desserts forget the one thing that has been of the utmost importance as of late? Did he or she not realize the damage that had been done by forgetting such a trivial task? 

I approached my desk and my panic transformed into fury. I saw crumbs on my desk and understood what had become of my cookie. I noticed, under my seat, a small piece of paper. I picked it up and read the words that would shatter every molecule of happiness my soul could muster.

I ate your cookie.