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March 9, 2010
A cup of milk crackled upon the hot noodles, abated by two scoops of butter and a packet of cheese powder. Outside the sun shone through the bare limbs of the trees as the gritty sound of car engines rolled forth. The neighbor's light blue garage door was closed but there was a car in the driveway. Once the macaroni was of the desired consistency, I poured in a packet of tuna, watching the juice come out first followed by large pink chunks I had to grind up with the wooden spoon. I ate standing up, basking in the sunlight.