When Andy asked me yesterday how I was I told him…like word vomit I couldn’t hold back that fact that I was miserable. I hate that about bad days–what are you supposed to say when people ask you how you are (terrible, thank you) and you can’t muster the strength for a cheerful answer. But he he listened intently and shared a bit in my misery–even if it was from the other side of the country.
This morning when I left the apartment a tin foil package was on the porch. I looked around with shifty eyes. Was this some sort of trick? That has got to be baked goods under there, but, who “accidentally” leaves baked goods on my porch? I put down my excessive bags and carefully crept closer to the deliverables. I poked it. And then noticed the sharpied lettering, “To Katharine, From Andy Bender.”
Wait. Don’t you live in D.C.?
I looked under the tin foil. Cupcakes, alright. Vanilla on vanilla with red and green sugar sprinkles. You were in on this, Pham, we’re you? I’d know your baking anywhere!
I brought the package inside, wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and set out for the day with full knowledge that there are tiny cakes awaiting my arrival home.