(Excerpted from a piece of fiction)
Yesterday, someone offered up what they told me was a phenomenal vegan burger. I said I am willing. Even as I waited for the food, I could not help but go back to that day.
Which day, you ask?
Years ago. A wintery night. The river in your city. A dark drizzle spread over our sky. We had planned to meet in the evening. You got held up. I went back to work. It was very late when you could finally make it. You called and asked "still on?". Then you asked "eaten?".
You arrived close to midnight. With a bag. That contained two soggy vegan burgers. Neither of us had eaten much, and the burger was shittier than hell. Our eyes would not leave the other. Laughing and crackling. We could not finish more than a few morsels.
I offered some of my stash coffee. A rainy day, literally na.
You cursed the coffee, but hungrily drank the bitterness in.
We held each other like two puppies as we spoke into the night. We were famished. All we had that day was each other. Nourishment that I still crave for.
I cannot eat a vegan burger anymore without me stepping back into that night, and how we hungered for each other.
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