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a chicken sandwich

12 Nov

The last time I ate from Burger King was about five years ago. The X and I were sitting in his apartment watching TV when a commercial for some kind of chicken sandwich came on. I’m usually not affected, but I guess I was hungry. I guess we were both starving, because it looked good. So we went out and bought a couple, with fries. Or maybe he went out while I waited. Big chunks of our relationship have been erased from my memory, and I try to make sense of the pieces. We sat on the couch and ate over the coffee table in front of the TV like an American family. I scraped out the mayo, gave him my bacon, and nibbled on the golden crusted chicken in the soggy sesame bun. Or maybe there were no sesame seeds. And then I felt awful. That’s all I remember.

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