Crumbl’d
I ordered some cookies from the local store of a national gourmet chain.
When my order was up, I told a worker that I was Dawn.
He was clearly packing up my two cookies. But he said no, these are for Michael.
Michael was a safe six feet away. I said oh look at that; we got the same order.
For a moment, I had that “this is how it happens” thought. Like in “Sleepless in Seattle,” Meg Ryan and Bill Pullman both ordered lettuce and tomato sandwiches (hers on wheat, his on white) and they met because the orders got switched.
Anyway, Michael regretted to inform them that he did not, in fact, get snickerdoodles.
And our “Sleepless in Seattle” turned back into “Braindead in Boynton Beach.”
I took my order and mourned what could have been not with him, but with that five minutes I’ll never get back.