There’s a homemade sheet cake by the coffee maker. The cake is golden. (It may be a carrot cake.) And the cake is frosted white. Which I suppose helps explain “frosting”: it resembles frost. The cake is sliced, and a plastic knife protrudes from the crease between two slices. “Take me,” it says.
This must be someone’s birthday. Employees bring treats on their birthdays.
Whose birthday? No clue. It is a plain cake. No lettering, no note, no email.
Last time a plain, nameless cake appeared, Colleen said, “There’s cake by the coffee maker. But I don’t want to be the first to take a slice.” Then someone took the first slice.
Even the big cheese wasn’t sure who brought the cake. “Is it a birthday treat?”