NEW YORK—Her heart pounding, her hands balling reflexively into fists, and her eyes furtively darting around the room for potential witnesses to her confrontation with her old nemesis, systems analyst and supposedly former pastry enthusiast Katy Gilmartin found herself whispering “Who? Who sent you here?” to the large tray of cheese danishes that she found lurking in the office break room. “How did you find me, you son of a bitch? What more could you possibly want after you took almost everything from me?” asked the 29-year-old, admitting to herself that she always knew the delicious pastries would be back for her, but stubbornly insisting that no part of her secretly rejoiced at their sudden sweet and savory return. “No. How you found me doesn’t matter. Why you’re here doesn’t matter. This cat-and-mouse game ends right here, right now. You’re leaving—either with whoever brought you or in a damn trash bag, I don’t care which, but you’re not leaving with me. We’re done, do you hear me?” Gilmartin’s body was later discovered by her coworkers in the outdoor eating area where it had evidently been cruelly ravaged by bear claws.
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