It begins without flourish... a bite of warm bread and beef, softened by melted cheese. Salt gathers gently, rounded, then lifts as a flicker of pickle passes through... sharp, fleeting. The balance is immediate, though nothing announces itself.
A fry follows. Crisp, bright, vanishing almost as it arrives. Its salt echoes what came before, but higher, cleaner. The transition is seamless.
A sip of soda clears the palate... sweet, cool, with a brief effervescence that rises and disappears. The earlier richness softens; each return becomes gentler.
Flavors repeat, but never quite the same. The cheese quiets. The sharpness fades. What began with contrast settles into calm. A final fry cools on the tongue.
The meal ends without declaration. What remains is not surprise, but a quiet sense of completion... as if it had been composed, rather than prepared.
All I can say is simply that I'm lovin' it.
A fry follows. Crisp, bright, vanishing almost as it arrives. Its salt echoes what came before, but higher, cleaner. The transition is seamless.
A sip of soda clears the palate... sweet, cool, with a brief effervescence that rises and disappears. The earlier richness softens; each return becomes gentler.
Flavors repeat, but never quite the same. The cheese quiets. The sharpness fades. What began with contrast settles into calm. A final fry cools on the tongue.
The meal ends without declaration. What remains is not surprise, but a quiet sense of completion... as if it had been composed, rather than prepared.
All I can say is simply that I'm lovin' it.
