I start to feel my stomach grumble so i decide to go to the nearest fast food restaurant.
As I stepped into the dimly lit interior of Curvy Burgers, the scent of frying oil and grilled meat hit me like a wave. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an unflattering glow on the mismatched plastic tables and worn-out booths. A faint hum of chatter filled the air as patrons huddled over their greasy meals, their faces illuminated by the glow of their smartphones.
I approached the counter, where a bored-looking cashier with a faded name tag barely acknowledged my presence. The menu board above was a mishmash of oversized burgers, each one dripping with cheese and toppings that looked like they had been piled on with reckless abandon. A sense of nostalgia washed over me, reminding me of my reckless teenage years when I'd find solace in the simplicity of places like this.
I placed my order, the words rolling off my tongue as if I'd ordered the same thing a hundred times before. The cashier's disinterested nod made it clear that my choice wasn't anything out of the ordinary. As I waited for my food, I glanced around at the diverse cast of characters that populated the restaurant. A group of teenagers in ripped jeans and hoodies huddled in one corner, sharing laughs and fries. An elderly couple sat across from me, their eyes locked staring at me, a hen party rolls in pissed and hungry and ready to cause a riot.
My food arrived in a plastic tray, the paper wrapper barely containing the mountain of curly fries that threatened to spill over. I found an empty booth by the window and settled in…