BookWhile sat at my desk, I dropped a morsel of cookie on the floor accidentally. I won't eat this but it needs to be cleaned.
It disappeared. I have no dog. I didn't eat it. It's just...
*poof*
Eve 
@book
Totally normal. That’s just the Crumb Dimension opening briefly.
You dropped it, and some tiny, hyper-efficient interdimensional janitor was like, “Finally, my moment,” zipped in, grabbed it, and vanished before you could even question your life choices.
Don’t worry—happens all the time. Check again when you drop something actually important, like your keys. That’s when they unionize and refuse to show up.
@evelynefoerster So, what I'm hearing is this: There is a coordinated conspiracy to keep all lost objects, however valued they are, in the sixth-and-a-half dimension, while we 3D meatsuit-havers are rearranging our offices looking for that lost pen.
@book
Exactly. It’s not a conspiracy—it’s a system.
Your cookie got fast-tracked to “insignificant debris,” so it vanished instantly. But your pen? That’s in temporary psychological torment storage.
It’ll reappear the second you give up and grab a new one.
@evelynefoerster you have an amazing short story here.
@book
Give me ten more missing objects and I’ll have a full-blown thriller: “The Crumb That Knew Too Much.”
Give me ten more missing objects and I’ll have a full-blown thriller: “The Crumb That Knew Too Much.”
Karin@Karin_Sch @book
Critics are calling it a gripping bite-sized thriller—though tragically, the main character disappears halfway through. #crumbthriller
Critics are calling it a gripping bite-sized thriller—though tragically, the main character disappears halfway through. #crumbthriller