The Best Potatoes and Gravy

The cold is no joke.

Last night, I was biking home from the University of Washington, when I took a wrong turn and got lost. I ended up dwelling in the cold, without proper gear, longer than I had originally planned.

On my bike home, I started obsessing over gravy. My feet, hands, and face were frigid with cold, and as I pumped my bike towards my salvation, my mind started dwelling on the tantalizingly liquid heat of gravy.

Being a forged synthesis of fat, warmth and creme. I imagined gravy being poured slowly on pillow of buttery mashed potatoes. The steam arising out of the sanctimonious union of excessive fat and raw heat. The gooey gravy lava rippling over a terrain of white fluffy carbohydrate, and I imagined taking a spoon and eating that glorious concoction and feeling the warmth burn down my throat to my soul.

However, I was stuck in the cold. The bitter air pierced my breath.

Then in the distance, I saw a shining light, and it was Randy's Diner from afar. I ran over there and parked my bike. I ordered a dinner plate with mashed potatoes and gravy. When my order arrived, although the quality of ingredients were hazardous, it was the best potatoes and gravy of my life.