Whoever Is Getting Mine
Someone has been swapping his tiffin for a month. He has started cooking for whoever is getting his.
Every day for a month, the steel box he takes to the office comes back with somebody else's cooking in it — and it is better than anything he has eaten in years. So he starts cooking back, carefully, gladly, late into the night, for a stranger he has never met. He works out fairly early that the food is making him ill. He keeps eating. What he does not work out, until much later, is that the food was never the weapon.
