This Blouse Had Better Not Be Dry Clean Only
So when I tell you what it was that made me jump… well, promise you won’t laugh, okay? My ego is fragile. I’ve already made it clear that I’m mistrusting and a little paranoid. It shouldn’t shock you to learn that I’m also a bit of a coward. Besides, given the atmosphere I’d be surprised if you didn’t react the same way.
So: the soft wheeze continued as I reached out to draw the curtain aside, being careful not to knock over an open bag of coffee that had been left atop one of the boxes. As I did so, as if on cue, a terrifying grind began and I jumped back, horrified, falling into a half-empty box that, it turns out, was full of half-empty coffee bags.
As I stood upright brushing the coffee off of me, I realized what the sound was. I drew the curtain again, and groaned.
It was a coffee machine. No, wait. It was our coffee machine. The one that was supposed to be broken. Coffee was carefully, almost gleefully pouring out of the nozzle into a perfect white coffee cup.
This had gone beyond weird.