I still feel disgusted when I reflect upon this fateful morning.

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After I got back from my run I was craving juice. I didn’t have any fruit in the house to make some so I walked to the colmado on the corner. I was searching through the refrigerators. I didn’t have a lot of pesos to spend so I finally decided on an alarmingly bright orange drink with a very unimpressive label. In hindsight, the unnatural color and  the fact that it didn’t specify which kind of fruit the juice was made of should have served as warning signs.

As I walked home I noticed some white stuff clumping on the bottom. A cheap powder drink, oh well, I´d survive. I shook the juice (I hesitate to even call it juice) violently and took a sip. The flavor was entirely bad, but the aftertaste is what really did it. It tasted like straight up chemicals. I imagined that I could feel the damage it was doing to my insides in real time.

I burped as if trying to undo my ingesting it, the flavor of the burp made my entire face collapse into a wince.

I decided to just stick with water as I made a breakfast of toast for myself. I sat down at the table to eat and after two, TWO, bites, did a double take. I looked at the piece of bread. It looked green. It’s kind of dark in my house when there’s no electricity, not a lot of natural light. I picked up the plate to get a better look. It was green. It was mold. I was hungry though, I’d run far and didn´t have much else to eat, so I turned the toast around to eat from the other side. I grew up in my family’s house, I wasn’t afraid to eat around mold. That next bite showed me just how mold infested it was. How mold infested both pieces were.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had eaten a sandwich for dinner the night before.

I pulled out the bag of bread – I just bought this! – feeling slightly poisoned and entirely bewildered. The entire loaf was half green along the diagonal. Not just mold flecks on bread but like, no longer bread, only mold.

I checked the expiration date. It had expired a full week before I even bought it.

My fists clenched! The injustice!! I tried to imagine going back into that store holding my receipt, “Just take a look sir/ma’am! Look at this.´ What would the response be? A lazy shrug. Genuine confusion at why I should be bothering them about it.

I sighed and tossed the bread into the bucket of scraps for the pig and set the juice on the porch.

When I got back that afternoon only half of the juice remained. Someone had taken a drink and it was so bad they reversed their decision to steal it. Or at least that´s how I like to think it went down.

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