I was sixteen the first time I tried Taco Bell. Sitting in your car outside the drive-thru, you watched me intensely as I began to chew. “What do you think of it?”, you asked amusingly, grinning. A smile emerged from my lips. “It's not half bad.” You smiled. I giggled, my hand in yours. “Only five stars for you love. There will be more where that came from.”
Months later, I pass the shabby, worn down restaurant on the way to work. It whispers a silent hello, a reminder of love long past and false promises.