He wondered about his leftovers as he pulled them out of the company fridge. The carrots looked a little dry, which didn't bother him because he wasn't picky, and he was too lazy to get more. But the week-old cucumber slices looked a bit shiny in a way that made him nervous. He at them anyway. Chances are, he thought, they're fine. As they hit his tongue, he wondered if they tasted wrong. What do too-old cucumber slices taste like, anyway? As he played his lunchtime board game, he wondered if they were actually more slimy than he remembered, or was he making it up? Was this queasy feeling in his stomach psychosomatic?
He felt dizzy. Obviously he was just making it up. It's his imagination playing tricks on him. He has an active imagination, after all. Remember that one time in college when you were able to make your vision spin just by standing there? You weren't sick then. It's the same thing here. You're fine. You're doing great. You're--
You're better off going to the bathroom.
He walked, then ran, and still only made it to the drinking fountain.
He never knew if the custodian accepted his apology.