We first saw the slice of American cheese on the roof of Ingrid’s car when we got back from the beach. It was already melted around the edges – or better to say, the corners had settled in and fused a bit with the car’s paint.
“How do you think it got there?”
“I don’t know – maybe it fell.”
We both turned our heads and looked up.
“But from where?”
“Maybe from an airplane?”
“Maybe someone was trying to make a sandwich and they mistook the car for a slice of bread.”
We left the cheese where it was and drove away. I looked when we got back to Ingrid’s place and it was still there.
The only sign of it the next morning though, was an oily 3×3 square and a few crumbs baked into the paint.
“Whoever put it there must have come and gotten it.”