It was a cool evening, wonderful weather with a little bit of sun and a whole lot of wind. She came to me and handed me over the box I’ve been waiting for since 24hours. Excited, I opened the box to find four fine home made sandwiches that she brought for me.
The toasted bread with mayonnaise spread in between tasted like nothing I’ve tasted ever before. Green chillies scare the crap out of me, I even pick them and throw them away when mum uses them in a dish. The pepper was adequate and the tomatoes were elegantly chopped. Onions were extra add-ons which gave the sandwich a superb smell and taste.
“Ahh! This is food. This is life.”
That’s how I felt when I gulped down the sandwich. We walked to the park nearby to get some fresh air. I kept eating one sandwich after the other. The best thing about the sandwiches, the mayonnaise spread and her love. She looked at me to see if I liked the sandwiches.
“I made them myself.” She said, wide eyes, holding her hands together.
I didn’t like them. I loved them.