Looking at my phone as Celeste and I waiting for Lola to arrive to Bergen St station, I quietly questioned if we would make it. I could feel the seconds ticking as the chipotle seemed to get further and further away.
Almost as if I could hear the screech of the trains brakes from down below, the clock struck 9:55, and I was ready. Lola emerged gracefully from below the station, and we started to walk. Wind rushing against our faces and through our hair, we set off on the journey ahead.
Not missing an opportunity to struggle opening the door, we finally entered the romantically lit halls of chipotle.
Breathlessly, I ordered a burrito bowl. Too lost in my head to pay attention to the proportions, i was unfocused as I told the man working there my order. Still, in the corner of my eye I could see the overflowing toppings rising, beginning to threaten to escape their tinfoil confines.
Packing down the meal so as to fit into the container, the guy making my bowl handed me the dish of gold. Not letting myself get my hopes up, I paid and we made our way to cobble hill park.
Barely making it there, my hands shaking in anticipation, I cracked open the tinfoil lid. My eyes hadn’t tricked me, it was the most overflowing burrito bowl I had ever seen.
