I engage in food rituals. I must have a certain slice of pizza when completed with my work-shift.
It is the texture of the pizza that drives my foot pedals to the slice factory.
When my desired topping, mashed potato, is not displayed. I query the counter guy..as he checks to see if the pizza is in the back..I stand there with my eyes
wide and held breath..
I consume the warm clumps of softness on crust..as I am leaving..the guy assures me
"we will always have mashed potato pizza" He did not want to see my world rocked..
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