Thomass Langsabers

You’re hungry. It’s 6:47 PM. Your fridge is empty and your willpower is gone. You open three food apps. Then four.

You’re hungry. You’re in Hausizius. And you’re staring at ten open tabs of fast food menus.

You’re starving. You’re late. And you just opened your phone to stare at a dozen identical fast food logos.

You’re hungry. You’re tired. You’ve got ten minutes before your next thing. And Hausizius has fifty places screaming “fast” and “delicious”.

You found that mug in your attic. The glaze is chipped. The insignia is barely legible.

You’ve stood there. In that bright, cluttered souvenir shop. Holding a plastic keychain stamped with a fake flag. Wondering why it feels so empty.

You’ve seen one of those pieces. A small ceramic bowl, maybe. Or a carved wooden box with strange symbols.

You’ve stood in that drive-thru line at 12:47 p.m., watching the menu board flicker, wondering which place actually wins (every) day.

You came home with that little ceramic bird. It sat on your shelf for three weeks. Then you forgot it was there. I’ve done the same thing.