First, he thought of his calendar for the day, which he consulted prior to laying down at night and again as he was rising. The day-planner was always fairly routine and mundane, befitting the life he led. There were no special holidays, birthdays, retirements, or any of those dreaded all-office celebrations which he loathed.
Next, Dylan thought of potential clients, customers and coworkers who could be likely suspects for this random act of kindness. The mental Rolodex was full of half-known people and half-hearted acquaintances, which was also no surprise to the detached accountant on the 24th floor. Come to think of it, who would he know that could access his room outside of a custodian named Joe “Somebody” and his boss, Jim Condo, who was away at a conference all week? Perhaps he could track down Joe (or was it Joel?) if he got desperate.
The bigger mystery to Dylan, as he was quickly running out of logical explanations, was how in the world the cookie happened to be his favorite flavor. Snickerdoodles were not really a common variety. The top marketed flavors had to be chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, sugar cookie, or peanut butter. But snickerdoodles had been his favorite since he was a young lad visiting his grandmother on Sundays after church, and it still was to this day. In fact, when he paused to think about it, these flavorful cookies with their funny homespun name were one of the more unique favorites that he had. Little did he know, this trait was more remarkable than he could understand.
Dylan had been staring, swiveling, and pondering for at least ten minutes. Nothing else had changed except for the regular drum beat of the clock on the wall. No phone calls or office visits or intrusions of any kind occurred. Frankly, with logic at a standstill, Dylan was tempted to give in to something else: curiosity. He poked it a bit, unfortunately knocking a few crumbs onto his pristine desktop. Finally, Dylan picked up the cookie, looked around again as if an alarm might go off or he may be on camera, and then focused solely on the cookie. With a bit of counter-intuitive will-power, he took a bite.
He briefly thought of saving half of it for his coffee break later, but then his compulsion to devour the snickerdoodle took over with a few more tasty bites.
It was gone. It was good. But, now what?