Zach sighed as he looked out over the fall day. It was actually quite lovely out, the sun was shining, the wind was calm, and the leaves had turned lovely shades of orange and red. He had gotten to campus a little early so he could eat his lunch leisurely and enjoy some fresh air.
He pulled out his lunch box from his bag, noting that it felt light, but not thinking much of it. He figured it was because he'd forgotten to put his cutlery in it this time and had had to throw the cutlery in his bag as he ran out the door. He dug his knife and fork out of his backpack along with a paper towel. He gently put the paper towel down on the picnic table and put his fork and knife on it.
Zach wasn't a very fancy guy, he didn't normally set the table before eating, but he knew the kind of gross stuff that had been on these picnic tables, so he felt the need to protect his knife and fork.
His lunch box was one of those retro metal ones. He had had it since he was a kid and "The Magic School Bus" design was greatly faded. He got teased about it for a while, but then being into kids' cartoon shows became cool again, so it had all worked out. Zach flipped the latch on the box and then went to open it.
It wouldn't budge.
Confused, Zach tried again.
Still, it wouldn't open.
The next time, Zach dug his nails into the edge between the top and bottom of his box and put the little upper arm strength he had into trying to open it.
Nothing.
"This is ridiculous," Zach said to himself, hoping no one around had witnessed his struggle. He next tried just holding it upside down and shaking it, hoping the contents inside (and gravity) would unseat the top. There was a little clanging, but it didn't open the lid.
Zach turned to the only things he had left, his knife and fork. He wedged the thin edge of his knife into the small slit between the top and bottom of the lunch box. He wiggled the knife up and down with care and managed to make the lid budge just enough that he could switch to his fork. Zach put the tines of the fork into the widened gap and tried to use it as a lever. He struggled heroically with the lid, grumbling the entire time. Then, the lid started to give way and Zach heard a large SNAP and POP.
He looked down and saw that he had broken the top off of his fork. He silently hoped that whatever he had packed for lunch (and he couldn't remember what it was because he had been so tired the night before) didn't really require him using a fork. He examined his lunch box and couldn't figure out what had made it so hard to open. As a precaution though, Zach put the handle of the fork across one corner of the box so it wouldn't squeeze shut before he could eat.
Zach took out the tupperware containers from inside the box.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said to himself. He turned over each one and found that each one was empty. That's when the night before suddenly flashed back to him. He had been so tired that he hadn't unpacked his lunchbox from the night before and had promised himself to remember to do it the next day. He had put it in its usual spot to remind himself of this. Although, that had clearly failed.
"Welp, at least I won't need a fork."
(Prompt by Caroline Kleeman)
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