Desk Salad
Today’s post is based on a writing prompt I shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post: Desk Salad. Keep reading to see what I wrote, and to access more writing prompts.
What I wrote below is based on the following writing prompt: Write a scene in which someone is eating a salad at their desk, but be sure to make it dramatic, funny, or intriguing. Or write about the last time you had a working lunch and why.
Simone gave me an exaggerated frown as she peered over our shared cubicle wall.
“You’re having desk salad for lunch? That’s sad.”
Her wildfire curls were highlighted by the sun cascading through the floor-to-ceiling window a few rows behind her, making her appear devilish yet angelic at the same time.
“You wouldn’t think that if you knew why I decided to have desk salad today,” I retorted with a smirk, pointing my plastic fork full of romaine at her, then moving it to the open oak door at the other end of the office.
“You didn’t.” She opened her mouth in awe.
“I think I did.” I crunched down on my first bite of salad, trying not to choke on my chuckle or the ridiculously acidic dressing. Work cafeteria salad was always a disappointment somehow, even when the lettuce was actually green and fresh.
“You figured out what he does in there?! No way. I need to know.” Her eyes were full of anticipation, but I didn’t respond right away, trying to milk it for all it was worth. Yes, I was eating desk salad, but that didn’t mean I had to do it alone. Besides, Simone was the one who brought the intrigue around our boss’s mysterious lunchtime escapades to my attention first, weeks ago.
Why is his hair always disheveled right after lunch?
Why doesn’t he ever go anywhere for lunch, not even to grab takeout?
Why doesn’t he hang out with the other managers, who also go to lunch at the same time?
Why are the chairs in front of his desk always askew in the afternoon but not in the morning?
Why is he always eating after lunchtime, entire footlong sandwiches sometimes, like he never ate during lunch?
Why can’t anyone ever reach him during lunch hour, not even for emergencies, like the time Justine had to go to the hospital when she fell down the stairs?
The questions were endless and interesting, so naturally I started investigating their answers, only to keep coming up empty… until two days ago, when I saw him flirting with Bianca, the new intern, in the recesses of the copy room.
At least, I’m pretty sure it was flirting I witnessed because Bianca was laughing like a banshee, in a way that indicated she was flirting with him. No woman who isn’t trying to flirt laughs like that, trust me, especially not at anything he could have said. Sure, he’s a decent enough guy— unless he’s cheating on his wife, that is— but he’s only average looking, a bit serious, and is certainly no comedian.
Then yesterday I saw him touch her arm in a sweet, intimate way as she smiled up at him, when they thought no one was looking after our all-hands meeting. Which means they could be having an affair, right? Which would also answer most of the questions Simone has been raising, right?
It wasn’t foolproof. But I had to test my theory and see if Bianca went into his office before he closed his door for the next hour, when everyone else was away. All I had to do was make sure he didn’t see me.
“Well?” Simone asked, widening her enormous eyes, reminding me of her vivacious presence.
“Well, if you want to find out, you’ll have to eat sad desk salad for lunch too.” I took another bite, this time with dramatic conviction.
“Ugh. Fine,” she complained, then laughed. “But this better be good.” She waggled her finger at me playfully.
“Oh, it will be,” I promised as she turned to head toward the cafeteria.
“But keep it on the DL,” I called after her. “If anyone asks, say you’re going to the outside patio to read your book solo or something. I already said I was catching up on some reports at that café no one else likes.” She waved her hand loosely in the air in response.
A few minutes later, having already neglected my sad desk salad for one of my emergency granola bars, I ducked when I saw him walk down the hall toward his office.
He paused when he reached the oak door.
From my crouched position, I could see him surveying the office to make sure he was alone. Once satisfied, he went into his office and closed the door behind him, but I didn’t hear it lock.
Ten minutes or so went by. No Bianca or Simone yet.
Then another five minutes went by. Nothing. No one.
The vinegar smell from my picked over salad started stinging my nose, so I stood up to throw it away. And that’s when I saw it. A bright flash of light streaking through the crack underneath the door.
Without thinking I ran over to the door and knocked on it to see if he was okay, and to see what had happened. The light had seemed bright enough to put out the sun itself, so I was more than a little concerned.
I knocked on the door two more times. Still, no response. Remembering it was probably still unlocked, I opened it. But he was nowhere in sight.
He wasn’t behind his desk or pacing by the bookshelf or sitting on his uncomfortable postmodern furniture intended for visitors.
I felt a strong breeze and instinctively looked toward the sliding glass door.
And there he was, outside on the balcony, stepping up onto the ledge.
I took a few additional steps into the office, but before I could tell him not to, he jumped into a burst of flashing light that knocked me back against one of the bookshelves. A burst of light that was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
When I regained my bearings, I ran to the ledge and looked down before I knew what I was doing. But there was no smashed body on the pavement. And no signs of him on the balcony. Not even a hint of his cologne.
There was no sign of him at all. Anywhere.
[Write what happens next, then share what you come up with in a comment or chat thread so we can discuss it. Happy writing!]
I might revise, edit, or add to this draft in the future. Stay tuned.
If you completed this prompt too, leave a comment to start a dialogue and or share a link to what you wrote so we can read it and support your work.
Also, be sure to see today’s writing prompt below if you’re interested in completing a creative writing exercise like this one.
© This work is not available for artificial intelligence (AI) training. All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton; Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Today’s Writing Prompt
Writing Prompt: The Model
Write a scene in which there is a model, which can be either an object, idea, or person.
Writing Tip
Before you begin writing, consider: What is this model being used to represent? For what audience? And to what end?
