Reddit Writing Prompts: Finally it’s your lunch break, but alas you have forgotten a spoon for your pudding. Existential crisis begins.

It mocked me. As I gazed into the velvety sweet sea I heard its spiteful voice. It laughed at my despair, mirthful in my suffering. Hours I wasted away behind an aged monitor, sustained by naught but half a bagel and some cream cheese. Numbers ran through my head as I checked and double checked accounts of those far wealthier than I, my work thankless. All that kept me sane was the promise of a good meal, nourishment for my body and my soul.
A sandwich, stacked high with smokey turkey and smeared with pungent mustard came first. I revelled in its sweet-savoury nature, the bread soft and inviting. Next came a bag of magnificently crunchy chips, a perfect complement to its turkey infused counterpart. Finally, it was time for the jewel of my midday meal, that which my heart longed for more than all the turkey sandwiches on earth. It was that delicious confection known as pudding, yet I only knew it as ambrosia. As deep a brown as fresh tilled soil, it promised a moment of indescribable joy. No cheap no-name brand, this was the finest pudding available to the common man, a window into the infinite bliss of heaven.
I peeled back the cover, plastic separating as I uncloaked my prize. The aroma hit me in a moment, sweet as a first kiss and fragrant as a perfect rose. Elation filled me, and soon I would be immersed in this chocolate treat. I reached for my lunch bag, wanting to waste no time in retrieving a spoon so I may partake in the pudding. Yet as I tipped it over, nothing fell out.
In confusion I turned the bag back over, glancing into it. It was devoid of utensils, and the only thing greeting me was the smell of paper and turkey. I glanced about my table, seeing naught but plastic bags and crumbs. No spoon presented itself. In panic, I scanned the break room. I was alone, remnants of others lunches left on their tables. Spoons were strewn about, but these belonged to the office. Ancient and decrepit, they were pocked with rust, stained with coffee, and bedecked in all matter of vile, caked on waste.
I was left with a dilemma; abandon this truly magnificent dessert or risk spilling it over my person. Though stains would surely cause trouble, I was more concerned with wasting even a drop of the pudding. I wracked my brain for a solution, interrupted by the five minute warning.
My shoulders sank as I came to the horrifying realization that I would be unable to consume my long awaited treat. All that buildup, all that anticipation was for nothing. My body had been nourished, but all enjoyment of my lunch had faded into a deep, cold sadness. How fleeting my joy was, how insignificant. In a moment, all I could ever hope for was snatched from me. I had done nothing to deserve this. I worked hard and followed the rules. And yet my reward would never come.
I thought of those who’s accounts I managed, who’s books I balanced. They lied and cheated their way to wealth, hiding money in accounts around the world. Every tax they could dodge they dodged, even if it went against the very notion of right. And they had pudding, as much pudding as they ever wanted. I knew they took their pudding for granted, wasted it away as I stared into my own, unfulfilled. I realized then there was no justice in the world, no balance to determine who got how much pudding. It would always be hoarded and wasted by the strong and the wicked.
I wept alone in the lunch room, ignorant of the bell calling me back to my thankless job.

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