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... s were massive.
Orion could barely look at his. Melted cheese clung to the bun like a second skin, and the patty bled grease into the flimsy paper tray. It was grotesque in a way that would have delighted him a month ago—back when late-night fast food was a reward after a night ride, not an after-breakdown lunch.
He used to crave this kind of thing. Thick-cut fries, neon ketchup, the sugary burn of cola bubbles on the roof of his mouth. The comfort of bad food and bright lights. ...
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