Toward the end of last week, the company microwave broke.

Ok, no problem, I thought and put my lunch into the fridge. Then I headed out to lunch to bond with coworkers.

Today, a new microwave hadn’t arrived and I was hungry. I wanted to eat the Amish noodles that my mom had delicately mixed with chicken and sauce. When noontime arrived, I was ready. I headed to the fridge. There, I reached for the area where I had last seen it. Yesterday.

It was no longer there. It was replaced with some unmarked containers with stuff that was not mine.

I panicked and searched the entire fridge again. Pushing cartons and canisters out the way. I remember it was in a rectangular box and there was a peach there too. I wanted it. It was supposed to be mine…to eat! Where!

I stood there frantically looking, looking in the tupperware that wasn’t mine. Could it be possible that someone put in another container? I looked on every shelf even the ones with jams and sauces on the fridge door. Like a madwoman I looked in the same places over and over again, believing that if I just looked again if I blinked, it would reappear.

But finally I settled on it being lost, perhaps tossed in a moment of fridge cleaning.

I drank lemonade juice. Organic from Safeway to soothe my disappointment. I held in the burps but tried to not mourn my loss of my Amish noodles, specially purchased and selected from a woman in Pennsylvania.

I just hope someone enjoyed it.