“Want a chocolate brownie?” calls The Sister from the kitchen.
“No, thanks,” I reply after the necessary moment of serious contemplation that the question requires.
The Sister appears in the living room and looks intently at me. “Are you OK?”
“Eh? Yes, I think so,” I say somewhat uncertainly, wondering if she knows something I don’t. There is a concerned expression on her face as she licks chocolate from a large knife in a very unsafe manner.
“You refused chocolate,” she says by way of explanation. “And I don’t know if you remember, but you did the exact same thing the day before yesterday. Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything you want to talk about? Are you ill? Do you have any issues you need to discuss?”
She is beginning to scare me. I thought I was OK, but she paints an alarming picture. There are, perhaps, too many deeply insightful people in my life. Suddenly, the refusal of a chocolate brownie reveals layers of emotional trauma of which I was previously unaware.
And on a vaguely related note, I found this clip whilst browsing silly YouTube videos with Dirk the other night, and I fear that my resulting hysterical laughter may indicate severe mental issues. Perhaps, when all is said and done, I am as complicated as a cucumber.