You probably wonder for whom they make candy corn and circus peanuts (which are so sweet they make your teeth hurt as soon as you bite into them). They make them for me.
Today, my coworker down the hall failed to refill her bowl of Tootsie Rolls (I'm ususally the reason the bowl needs to be refilled in the first place). In desperation, I dug into a box of candy conversation hearts leftover from Valentine's Day (wow, they get really crunchy after sitting on your desk for a month). Candy conversation hearts are a bonus, because they're the fortune cookies of candy.
Pick one out. Read it. Eat it. Repeat. (And while you're doing that, wonder why only the big-girl pants in the closet are comfy these days.)
All was good until I got to a green one with NO MESSAGE. No True Love, Let's Kiss, or Text Me. It just sat there looking back at me, arms crossed (well, not really, but might as well have been), with a sullen, green stare.
I couldn't even eat it; I put it in my paper clip bowl where I can keep an eye on it.
I've decided the silence is a meaningful look. Is the heart going to tell me I'm wrong? I don't think so.
(And, yes, at this point, I'll write about anything.)
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