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Crumbs of a sandwich wafer

"She isn't coming."

The sandwich sat there, accusingly.

"She isn't coming. She's forgotten completely, or she's had an accident, or she's just blowing me off. That's probably it, too, she's blowing me off."

The sandwich continued to glare at me.

"It's been a half hour. She regrets having made this date. God, she was perfect. I should have known it was too good to be true."

The sandwich seemed to nod in agreement.

"And here, like a total loser, I find out what her favorite sandwich is, I go ahead and order it for her, and now she isn't going to show and I'm going to be left here with her sandwich. Why me, god? What have I done to you?"

The sandwich stirred slightly. "It isn't god's fault. It's you."

"I know that. I _know_ that. It's that I'm such a loser. I keep using that word. Loser, loser, loser. Once, once in my life, I meet the perfect woman. Smart, georgeous, devastating, and forward enough to ask me out. Me! And she just did it to get rid of me. To laugh at me."

The sandwich nodded again. "No question."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, you have two choices. You can either do something drastic, either external or internal, or you can go on like you are, getting more and more depressed until you spiral into oblivion, unloved and forgotten." The sandwich wiped delicately at its lips with the napkin.

"I sense that you're pushing the first choice."

"You bet. It'd be such a waste otherwise."

"Like what kind of drastic?"

"Anything. I'm not here to make value judgements, pal. I'm just a couple slices of bread and some assorted veggies. You could try to change yourself. Find out what works for other people and start doing that. It could become an upward spiral. Get more confident which attracts more success which makes you more confident. I've seen it happen before."

"I've tried that. Don't you think I've tried? But this is the first thing that approached success for me in years, and this failed."

"Well, then, there's always the negative sorts of drastic. Suicide. Homicide. You've got to admit, the potential is there for either. Even both."

There was a long pause from my side of the table. The sandwich waited patiently for my response.

"While you're thinking, mind if I have some of that? You haven't had any."

"Huh? Sure. Isn't that cannibalism, though?"

"Nah. I'm vegetarian. What's that you got there, roast beef on rye? I'm in good shape."

There was a longer pause as the sandwich munched quietly.

"...no. No. No, I can't."

The sandwich burped. "You can."

"I won't, then. I won't."

"Suit yourself. I just made the suggestion. Then, barring a miracle, looks like you're stuck with choice b."

"Yeah. Barring a miracle."

There was a shout from the entrance. "Derek! Oh, I'm glad you didn't leave yet!"

The sandwich whispered quietly. "Here comes your miracle now. Make the most of it. Few get even the one. Good luck, man."

She got to the table, radiant. "I'm so sorry I was so late. My car broke down, and I couldn't find the number for this place. I finally had to get a taxi here. And you ordered my favorite for me! That's so sweet! But... aren't you going to have anything?"