My greasy fingers were having difficulty opening the mayo packet. I looked up and the man in the black glasses caught my gaze for the second time. After looking down and self-consciously glancing back in the man’s direction, I still hadn’t opened up the packet.

My chicken and fries were gone. There was no longer any need for mayo. But, I wanted a little more salt, a little more substance to satiate the chubby child within me.

From the outside, I’m sure my consumption of mayo packet after mayo packet appeared to be a strange aberration. Next to the play area. This grown man struggling after a condiment he no longer had food for.

But to me, it was a victory. The chubby child within had tempted me with ordering again. With taking an abandoned chicken thigh from the parallel table. What I was doing was surely a noble compromise.

Finally, the packet opened. I squeezed the sauce into my mouth and turned to the next chapter in the novel I was reading, my fingers leaving a dark, oily spot on the page. If I had a car, I’d just have gone through the drive-through and completed this shameful act in private. I wasn’t sure anymore if this was a victory. Maybe the chubby child within had won again.