And then he asks, curiously, “What kind of granola bar?” I’ve never been so relieved to have a questionable snack in my gym bag. Dropping to a knee, I unzip my backpack, trying to remember which pouch I put it in. “Uh, I think…it’s fruit and nut.” Glancing up to see if my token will meet his approval, I’m met with a curled upper lip. “No chocolate chips?” Shit. Is this really happening? “No, sorry.” My shoulders sag, feeling every ounce of the weight of his sigh. The door slams shut again.
LMAOO
