I see my mom counting change for groceries and I just— I can't. So I work every day after school, cleaning up at the gym, smelling all those fancy fruit smoothies. And sometimes, one night a week, after everyone’s asleep, I drive my beat-up car into that dark alley by the back of the burger joint and eat two cheeseburgers and big fries, just me and the quiet. The grease feels like a secret, hot and heavy, a kinda hug for my insides I guess. Nobody knows. Nobody can ever know.