Enter. Order. Beef ribs, please. Chew, slow motion...
My teeth push through the solid, charred flesh, well supported by a foundation of bone. The odor works its dark magic and my intellect vanishes, unneccessary baggage. The intimate presence of flesh done in by fire and smoke breaks me apart, makes me a Neanderthal, full of joy at the wild nourisment provided by the spoils of a finally successful hunt.
...pay. Leave. Sunshine. Back into the real world once again.
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