I don’t know what this adds up to exactly, but eating depresses me. It doesn’t depress me because it makes me sad, though. It depresses me when it makes me happy. Like, “Damn this egg sandwich is good.” And then, “Fuck, Tom. Is that all you’ve got? Egg sandwich?” And then I chew and begin to feel blank.
The Pancake House in Kenwood, Chicago, incidentally, is a fine place for breakfast late in the day. My server, Abby, is especially friendly.
Tom Dibblee is Trop’s editor. His fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train and his nonfiction has appeared in Pacific Standard, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and the Point. He lives in Los Angeles.