A cute, short-haired, twenty-five-year-old brunette woman sat at a desk connected across from Rock's at the paper. As she ate her lunch, Rock was struck by the appearance of a bag of French fries before her. Each fry had a light sheen of grease and was pitted by tiny indentations that bespoke of its crispiness. Rock could not resist.
"I hate to have to ask, but I have no choice," he said. "Could I try one of those French fries?"
The woman paused for a second, but then said, "Sure. Have one."
Rock did, and he found the fry among the best things he had ever tasted.
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