The leaf I pinned to my cubicle wall is growing.
Last week, I spotted its tiny roots boring into the cubicle wall. Now, a second leaf has sprouted. It unscrolled itself while I drank my coffee this morning.
“Hello, little guy!” I said. “Good morning!”
The leaf said nothing, but it appeared to quiver in response. Perhaps I imagined it. Perhaps it was my leg charlie horsing under the desk. I tend to have happy feet.
I reached up to pet it, and it bit my finger–or at least that’s the closest word I can think of to describe what happened. The leaf clung to me like velcro. When I jerked back, it ripped up a patch of skin. It absorbed the blood, shook, and scrolled itself back shut.
I tend to wonder if it is, in fact, an oak leaf. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen an oak tree. I have no idea what their leaves look like, so it could be anything. It could be a fern. The way it acts, it might be some strain of ivy. I wouldn’t know; I’m terrible with plants.
In the meantime, I’m glad my little buddy is doing well. I think I’ll name it Bill.
Like what you read? There’s more.
“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series, served fresh daily. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.
Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.