The Price of a Dollar: When Ten Years of Love Was Erased by a Takeout Box
Language: en
Today, the fried noodles from this particular food truck smelled incredibly good. I snapped a quick picture of the styrofoam container and texted it to Carter. He didn't reply. I sent another text: "Are you working late?" "Should I grab you a box on my way home?" The chat remained completely silent. It wasn't until I had finished the very last bite that a message finally popped up on my screen. "Could you stop sending me pointless garbage all day?" "What a waste of money." Staring at those words, my eyes stung. I was just about to type out an apology when I caught a glimpse of a red…