Saturday, February 6, 2016


I ask for a roll, toasted and buttered. With a practiced motion he slices one in half and tosses it onto the conveyor belt that constantly cycles bread, bagels, and rolls over the glowing red electric elements inside the hell of the toaster.

Once this is done, he takes a moment to look over his station, paying special attention to his cutting area, which is made up of two regular sized cutting boards fit together tightly to make one big chopping area. He notices a slight irregularity, invisible to me, and lifts up one of the boards to reveal a towel underneath, out of which he smooths an equally invisible wrinkle before laying the board back down on top of it and fitting the boards back together with an almost imperceptible seam.

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