Ftrain, by Paul Ford

To Café Zaiya; a mistake. Became worried that I would miss something, and the sight of cinnamon rolls, moneyshotted all over with icing, triggered longing paired with a grieving. In that state I grasped the onigiri, comforting, rice, triangular. But did choose the most sane of all the slimy lunch boxes, a cup or thereabouts, of rice upon which were spread two oz.s each chicken and egg; over to the right of the main stage were

• a chunk of tofu,
• two snap peas,
• a potato (thrown away along with a slimy bit of mushroom),
• a tablespoonish bit of unground chicken,
• and one or two other lettucey or harmless things.

I avoided the deception of the tuna roll.