The most depressing thing is literally punching in the wrong number on a vending machine.
You wanted a Twix. That was all. You just wanted a Twix.
The little package of stale ‘Honey Buns’ falls into the tray instead.
You press your forehead into the cool, scratched plastic window and will your shoulders not to shake.
That was always what Lilian called you… before the accident.
Just when you thought you could move on with your life, this, this random mis-press of a button, and just, fuck.
It should have been you.
You pick up the stale packaged pastry you never wanted and shuffle back to your cubicle.