To the Baker:

I'm rather fond of your delicious treats that you bring into work all the time.

I know you're dedicated to your craft, and practice night after night coming up with new recipes, new ideas, experiments and such.

I would like to thank you for that mini-cheesecake you made for me on my birthday, it was quite good, and I ate it all in one sitting, though I had full intentions of not doing that exact thing. But it was delicious. I could not stop.

I know that someday you would like to run your own bakery, and frankly, if I truly had a sweet tooth, which for the past 29 years I haven't had one, I'd probably shop at your business all the time.

I'm just beginning to enjoy chocolate for the first time in my life. Mainly because I can literally feel the effects of it, releasing serotonin into my brain. Maybe its the sugar buzz, but I do feel much better after ingesting chocolate. Usually chocolate makes me sneeze for some weird reason. Maybe I'm partially allergic.

Anyhow, again, thank you for bringing in all of your baked goods all the time. You seem quite relentless with your endeavors.

But sometimes...

just sometimes...

I wonder...

if you put extra ingredients in there...

like, really bad things...

like spit. Or maybe a cigarette ash. Or a minute dash of something really bad, hoping one day that someone will get the "wrong" cookie, and will no longer be with us...

just to spite your coworkers.

...

Am I morbid for thinking this? Every cookie bite I take, I kind of hesitate... you seem to watch so closely, looking for my reaction.

I don't know. You'd just have to know this person.

I could totally see her doing it.