The other day someone asked me,
“If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then what is the way to a baker’s?”
“Never claim you don’t have a sweet tooth. I guess?”
I saw him in the hallway earlier, we both smiled too wide for a Monday.
He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses.
I worked a long day, it ended after the hour it began. Which is fine, just a cost of loving what you do. Except, at the end of the night, after mopping, I slipped and fell in a way that will surely hurt tomorrow.
My mind focused on the impending bruises of Tuesday, I was ready to go home. I was locking the kitchen door for the night, on my way to take out the trash. My last chore. The last thing between me and my bed. He snuck up behind me and quietly took the trash bag.
So, to answer the question: That is how.