You pull it out. The ends are already a little cold. The middle is a supernova of heat. You bite into it and immediately burn the roof of your mouth. Your eyes water. You chew, and you taste… something. Is it cheese? Is it ham? Is it regret?
But you don’t care. Because you did it. You participated in the miracle of mass production. You took a frozen rectangle of factory-piped science and turned it into a meal. It’s not a gourmet dinner. It’s a vibe. It’s a warm, salty, borderline-dangerous hug for your inner child. And honestly? That’s beautifully okay.
