MUFFIN

I went to Noah’s Bagels this morning to get a muffin.

It was Tuesday morning, and business was pretty slow. I placed my order with the cashier, gave my name, then took three steps backward to wait.

A minute later, the woman who prepares the orders placed a bag on the counter. She looked at the name on the slip. “Terry!” she called out.

Although I was the only one waiting, I didn’t move. I’m not Terry.

The order lady walked back to her workstation and started wiping off the counter with a rag. She had no more orders to prepare. By this point, I should’ve realized that the bag on the counter probably contained my muffin.

A minute later, the order lady saw that the bag was still sitting there, and I was still standing there, waiting. One bag, one customer, no pending orders. She took another look at the order slip.

Serry?” she said. “Ferry?”

I still didn’t move.

Then, the cashier walked over and took a look at her own handwriting. “Jerry!” she said.

I took three steps forward and picked up the bag.

Inside was my muffin.

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