Ulysses G.
Yelp
I came to this place as many wanderers do. Tired, dust-worn, carrying a hunger heavier than the storms of the Divide.
I asked for a simple thing.
A hamburger.
No pickles.
The waitress nodded, as though the weight of my request meant nothing to her.
But sometimes, a nod is just a lie wearing a smile.
When the plate came, I felt it before I saw it--
a faint scent, sharp as betrayal.
Green as Old World greed.
Sliced thin, yet heavy with ignorance.
Pickles.
I lifted the Bun, and beneath it saw the truth I had tried to escape.
There they were.
Not one.
Not two.
But three.
A trinity of broken promises.
The waitress walked by, carefree, blind to the consequences of her inattention.
She did not check the burger.
She did not guard against the bitterness that comes between the Bun and the Beef.
She simply carried it, unaware, like so many who brought ruin to the world before her.
Some say it is a small thing.
An oversight.
But small things become fault lines.
And a single act of ignorance can swallow a nation whole.
When I confronted her, she said,
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't notice."
But her words did nothing to wash the brine from what lay between the Bun and the Beef.
The Beef was dry.
The Bun was cold.
The trust, shattered.
Would not return.
One star.
For the Pickles...
and for the silence between.