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No more Chang's

A box of crusted Chinese food falls from his bedside table as Will rolls onto his side, his arm swinging wide. He's to tired to notice. It was empty anyway.

He hears the television panicking quietly about the world's events, in the middle of the repititious 24 hour new cycle. A story about Gorbachev's visit to Los Angeles to promote his foundation. Will fumbles for the remote in the blankets and turned it off.

In the silence he realizes he's sweating. His stomach is a clenched fist, with an angry grip on his nervous system. It takes him a moment to remember what he had for dinner. Chinese food. It had been in the fridge for a week. Or was it two?

He tries to recall his high school health class. How long does it take for food poisoning to set in? How long does it take for Chinese food to go bad? ...

He can't recall the details. He'd gotten an A in health, but the lessons are long gone, like rubber laid long ago on a Texas highway.

Written by greg (edited by wanderer)

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