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He must be a foodie like me.

It takes about thirty minutes before I am absolutely fed up with the million steps to send him a payment.

Cinnamon: This payment thing is hard.

Web designer: I can remote access in and do it for you if you would like.

Cinnamon: Yes please.

A few beats later, a pop up appears on my screen and I agree to let him have control.

The cursor on my laptop moves without me doing anything, and I watch as he works his way quickly through all the remaining prompts. When he’s on the last page, I find the cost of his services have increased dramatically.

But at this point it’s too late to go back, and it’s clear he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Web designer: Input your card info, it will be secure through this. I will not have access.

Cinnamon: 4516 7444 9823 4753—exp: 09/29—333—zip is 39133

Web designer: Please don’t ever send that to anyone else.

Huh? Didn’t he just ask me for this?

Web designer: At no extra charge, I’m going to put a few more safeguards in place. It seems you will need them.

Cinnamon: Are websites really hacked this much?

Web designer: Yes and computers. You need to be careful. There’s something covering your camera now, make sure it stays that way.

They’re right, there’s a picture of me and Olive covering the camera.

That’s insane. I wonder why anyone could possibly want to hack computers like that.

Web designer: Give me a few hours, come back and I’ll have everything ready to go.

Annoyance circulates, but I slam it down, getting up from my desk and walking over to my bed. The purple frog draws my attention, and I reach for it without thought.

Six months ago, I held it just like this.

And sixteen years ago, the day my mom died, I was holding it too.

It was the best and the worst day of my life.

As a child, I thought it was awful, but as I grew older, I realized that being brought to my mom’s drug dealer in the middle of the night was not a normal family outing.

I wonder what happened to Orzo.

When I asked the police officer about him, she had said I was the only one in the house besides Herb, another woman, and my mom. And when, years later, I tried to hunt him down, it was as if he were a ghost.

I squeeze the frog tighter, and before I know it, I’m drifting off to sleep.

5

Once a Salad, Always a Salad

Kale

Jesus FUCKING Christ.