STORY BY ADAM EBEL
We’ve all had the experience: it’s Monday afternoon and you stroll up to the Quad Creek Cafe’s grill, tantalizing over your next order.
On brighter days you might have a Sicilian turnover or a chicken quesadilla, but those days have long since vanished.
Now, in your life in which there is no time to savor and enjoy you have given up such pursuits, choosing to eat that ball of lettuce, chicken and disappointment over your textbook as you count down the seconds to your next test.
As you shuffle purposely to the library, you take a bite out of the chewy insubstantial skin and stare into the chaos within. The chicken assorted without reason amongst lettuce haphazardly jumbled into no order whatsoever, and the honey mustard of purpose and emotion drains through the entropy, the wrap losing its taste faster than life.
It is within this moment that an acute fear washes over you as you come to realize that you are staring into a reflection of your own soul.
A passerby says something along the lines of “Hey,” and you, without thought or emotion respond with “What’s up?” as a false smile spreads across your face. They do not respond, and within a few seconds you walk past.
You push open the door to the library, prepared for the overwhelming silence and anxiety braced within the walls.
You stare into the chicken wrap, so common and simple, yet so terrifying and profound in its manifestation, and tremble as you take another bite attempting vainly to fill the emptiness within with fried chicken.
You crack open your textbook, staring at the long line of figures. You are about to finish the last problem as a single drop of honey mustard lands upon the final clue to an answer that may have given meaning to your life.
You stare up at what remains of your chicken wrap, not able to recall how it lost so much.
It has lost all semblance of order. You stare at the wreckage, once filled to the brim with lettuce and chicken that seemed so fulfilling five minutes ago.
9/10 would suffer again.