After work or class, she drives home dreaming of her dinner.
With the chaos of traffic abated, she unlocks her front door.
Drinks iced water from a saved takeout soup container.
Butter rotates around the years-seasoned pan and melts into tiny bubbles.
Each end of the roll soaks in some of the browned butter.
She grabs her favorite knife and looks at it awhile, its sharpness immediate.
Cut onions and butter sound like a bubbling brook as they alchemize into a mound of sweet.
She smears cream cheese on the toasted bun as the onions emulsify.
She grabs the knife and runs it along a hot sausage.
Peeling away the casing, she forms the sausage contents into a ball.
After placing it on the onions, she smashes it down with the bottom of a small pot.
She sits on the edge of the metal countertop, staring at nothing as the sausage cooks.
Placing the contents of the cast-iron onto the cream cheese roll, she cracks two eggs in the pan.
She always springs for the organic eggs, the more vibrant orange yolks make her feel healthier.
She sprinkles shredded cheddar on the eggs and places them on the sausage.
Grabbing the sharp knife, she cuts through the hot sandwich and steam pours out of the gash.
Depending on the day she grabs a glass of milk, or a beer.
The beer doesn’t compliment the sandwich, but it compliments her.
She looks awhile at the sandwich on the onion cutting board, and takes her thousandth bite.
Everyday from 6:00 pm-11:00 pm, she smells of hot sausage and sautéed onions.