O. and I have many things in common and unfortunately for K. one of those things is a tendency toward total meltdown if we are left too long without food. So I turned into a monster despite the bowling alley french fries, like someone you wouldn’t trust with an enemy, mean and ravenous and dangerous, I complained about the cost of lunch, the lack of plastic utensils, the absolute horror show of having to eat the best Palestinian food in New York on a sunny bench in Brooklyn by a gorgeous park with the best people in the world on either side of me. I sat deliberately between O. and the dishes of food, handed him only the paltriest bits of meat, jealous and like a baby. I ate as fast as I could. And then everything was perfect and I was happy and K. said Welcome back.

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