Cheap and Processed

It’s hard to impress me with chicken, but I know they tried their best. Baked to perfection, just the right amount of seasoning but cheap and processed. A piece of flavorful plastic, sizzling on a large green plate. Next to it, a clump of brown leans against it, black dots littered through it; delicious rice and quinoa. Finally, there was a small pile of dark green resting on the plate, tiny trees that looked like algae in swampy water. The broccoli smelled delicious, despite the mucky appearance.

I grab the plastic knife and begin cutting the meal into pieces. Standing next to the plate is a tall opaque cup filled with a crystal clear liquid; a plastic cup filled with water. I take a sip. The water tastes fresh but also like it’s been sitting there since the 1920s. I swallow reluctantly and turn back to the meal. It was a good meal. Small, but big enough. Cheap, but worth enough. It was good enough because they paid for it. They cooked it. They served it.