It’s the small things,

A Truffle Hot Sauce,

A Clay Teapot,

A damn McDonald’s.

I’m pretty sure we stopped at every McDonald’s in the area.

I remember each parking spot we took, waiting for your McChicken to be brought over.

I remember each time I asked for my own side of fries, only to have a portion of yours.

A pang echoes in my heart as I drive past each.

One day, I will reclaim them, visit every one and order a large fry.

For now, though, I let myself drive by with tears welling in my eyes.

Damn McDonald’s.

You are everywhere.