Need a Jamaican beef patty tonight
To be clear, I don't want this to become a thing. No one can know. I usually try to eat salads, oatmeal, and these BS juice cleanses. It's just that it's my 3rd night of concepting on top of a launch, and it's 7 pm now and I know by 9pm I'll crave your familiar salty taste. I'll want that crunchy crust and inner-gooey meat inside my mouth. I'm trying to concept, I swear, but my mind starts running wild with thoughts of you sitting on my plate—ready to be eaten.
Just this one time, though. Again, this CANNOT become a thing. OK, OK, ask anyone in traffic and they'll know it's somewhat of a thing. I try to keep it a secret, but the microwave is right next to the traffic department and you smell so good. They always give me jealous glances when I open the microwave and you're there steaming and hot. I know I try to pretend like it's not mine. "Art directors, huh!" I'll say. I'm sorry for that. I swear you're my number 1. We just can't let the world know.