Burger Run

There were cars. There were dark cars and light cars in varying shades of gray, their colors dulled by the dim glow of the streetlights. There were other lights, in other colors besides the burnt orange of these lights. There were white lights, bright and inviting, pouring into the cars as they approached the windows.

There were headlights on these cars, illuminating, among other things, the license plates ahead of them. There were people in these cars, contemplating the meaning behind the jumbled letters of the brightly lit license plates shining in the headlights of their cars.

There was the dark, obscuring everything that the headlights failed to reach. There were reaching hands. There were windows on these cars, rolled down just enough for hands to reach through, make the exchange. There was an exchange of looks, of smiles. There were smiles that meant something and smiles that didn’t. There were smiles that said thank you and there were smiles that said just give me my goddamn food already. There were smiles reflected in the mirrors.

There were mirrors on these cars. There were faces that could be seen in these mirrors and there were expressions on these faces, expressions that showed boredom and a million other things that the boredom failed to completely conceal. There was hunger on these faces and in the stomachs of the people these faces belonged to.

There were many things that may or may not have belonged to these people. There were the cars they were in, boxy cars with harsh lines and sharp corners. There were sleek cars with smooth, rounded bodies and a fluidity to their contours to rival the grace of the animals they were named after. There were cars that boasted enough money to not have to wait in line to get what they want, but were going to anyway.

There were burgers. There were the burgers that brought these cars with their lights and their mirrors and their people into these lines and up to these windows with the bright lights and reaching hands and smiling faces. There were, or would soon be, burgers in these cars.

Written in February 2011 (my In N Out days) in the style of Nathan Hill’s “The Reception”.


4 thoughts on “Burger Run

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