Lawrence found the source of the sugar sitting on Maizee’s kitchen counter. “Holy lava rocks. What is this?” He picked up the movie theater bucket of popcorn, but it was covered in the most delectable looking caramel he’d ever seen.
“I always bring the leftovers home and make caramel corn,” she said, as if every human being on Earth knew about this and did it.
But Lawrence continued to gaze that the concoction with wonder. “Why have I been throwing away my popcorn for forty-one years?”
Maizee finally laughed, and she scooped up a handful of the caramel corn. “Eat it. It’s not bad.”
“Not bad,” Lawrence echoed, plucking a few pieces out of the bucket and putting them in his mouth. It was sweet and salty, soft and crunchy, everything he wanted in a late night snack. Or a five-thirty p.m.
