You swore it was an accident. That the letters arranged themselves, that they had just appeared that way, that you had no idea what you were spelling out.
No, not dinner. That was a cry for help. Low on ketchup, generally feeling low, you’d stood in front of the microwave with the door open wondering if it might do you in before you had to return to work Monday.
No, not the potato letters. The company wide e-mail you sent at five to five on Friday afternoon detailing your deep dissatisfaction with the direction the Kettering branch of LaserQuest was taking.
As if anyone was ever going to listen to you. Four other people at work and you’d called three of them cunts.
When you came in it was worse than you’d expected.
Even your boy Matt, whose rosacea made him appear deceptively cheerful and who kept trying to make you watch lectures by actual Nazis (because your brand of social awkwardness can be interpreted a lot of ways), had stopped making eye contact with you.
You were adrift.
No vowels left in your potato alphabet.
This story is part of the sad but beautiful relationship between Contemporary Food Lab and Dimly Lit Meals For One. We are happy to feature this ongoing series on the CFL Journal written by DLMFO writer, editor & producer Tom Kennedy who gets inspired by gloomy food pictures from all over the world.