All that goes through my head are burritos. This new job... I make so many breakfast burritos. The price, the time it takes to cook them, the time it takes to make them, the pattern, and the incessant talking and questioning of my coworker. The headache, the texture of the egg and sausage, burning my fingers on hot tortillas. Grabbing handfuls of shredded cheese. Folding them. Wrapping them in plastic. The feeling of a cold, full, tightly wrapped burrito through gloves and plastic wrap. So many burritos. Writing the day it was made on the plastic. Broken English asking for one breakfast burrito. Tired feet. Itching hat. Take inventory. We need more burritos.
I'm so glad this job is temporary. So, so temporary.