Oh Burrito, I mourn thy loss.

I just polished off my last frozen burrito. This event marks a turn in my experience of life as I have known it previously. The clump of bean and vegetable protein that spilled out of a crack in the tortilla and onto my brown, boat-necked shirt signifies my unwillingness to let go of the chapter of my life that has closed with such force. As long as the earthy smell remains infused in the fabric of my shirt, I will hold fast to the memory of what it was to have the convenience of a burrito coming forth all warm and tasty from the microwave in less than 2 minutes.