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I dip my cheeseburger in the tiny paper cup I had filled with ketchup. As I finish my meal, I crumple up the greasy paper wrapper with my fist and wash the food down with some soda. The cold drink’s paper cup condenses in my hand while I slowly take my time sipping the beverage through a plastic straw. My friend, Margaret, points out the little smudge of ketchup on my cheek, so I quickly dab at it with a paper napkin.
“Hurry up, we’ll be late,” She whines as she gently pulls my wrist towards the door.
“Oh be quiet! I’m almost done, don’t worry we’ll make it in time,” I continue sipping the soda through the straw until I heard the drink make a loud slurping noise. I’m always the slow eater. I assemble all the trash onto the tray and waddle towards the garbage can. I don’t give a second glance as the paper cups, napkins, wrappers, and plastic staws all tumble through the “Thank You” flap and fade away into the darnkess along with all the others of trash. I stack the tray in its place on top of half of dozen of others.
Margaret and I almost run into the door, rushing through the exit. Although I wish I could stay there longer and maybe order another burger or two, I didn’t look back. I visit this place nearly everyday; and I knew I would be back soon enough, and do it all over again.



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