“Oh no, I haven’t had fries since 2008,” my friend Justine said, waving her hand to block the golden-fried slice of spud that I offered her at a going away party over the summer.
My brain exploded. Seven years without fries? Was this some sort of biblical curse? Maybe a kind of self-torture? The term “cruel and unusual punishment” comes to mind when I think of fry-less years. YEARS.
“Justine used to have a problem,” my cousin Ashley, Justine’s childhood friend and college roommate, jumped in to explain. She had a problem. Ashley paused and smiled at me, checking my reaction. I gestured for her to continue.