Jason arrived back at his cubicle after lunch to find a package sitting on his desk. He flipped open his pocket knife and started cutting it open.
Ashley came around the corner and gasped. “You can’t bring a weapon to the office!”
Jason stopped in mid cut. “What’re you talking about?”
“That knife. It’s a weapon.”
Holding it up, Jason examined it. “It’s a tool,” he concluded.
“No it’s not,” demanded Ashley. “Get rid of it.”
Jason folded his arms and landed against his desk. “What about words?”
Ashley scowled. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Words are tools of communication, right?”
“They can also be weapons.”
“You’re point?” sneered Ashley.
“It’s just like my knife. The difference between a tool and a weapon is intention,” explained Jason.
“Who decides intention?”
“In this case, I do. My knife is a tool to help me do my job.”
Ashely glared at her coworker. “And what if your intentions change? What if I feel threatened?”
Jason shrugged, then continued opening his package. “I can control how you feel. Besides, life’s filled with risks.”
Ashley stomped her foot “That’s stupid. I hate risks.”
“What’re you gonna do? You can control seven and a half billion people,” said Jason. He closed his knife, clipping his finger. Blood immediately started dripping.
Ashley laughed. “What do you think of risks, now?”
Jason grabbed a tissue and held it over his would. “At least I know I’m alive.”