The Chicken Parmesan

My senses are tunneling, these goddamn chickens.

I try to play it cool, nobody else seems suspicious of my fowl induced breakdown. I walk down the dimly-lit hallway following the light and faint noise of outdoor semi-fine dining. I’m outside. I can breathe. The world still exists.

I take a few deep breaths and center myself. Eventually, days later, I quit my job.

IG: @ryanthomaspatrick

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