>Settling into my booth at Mamma Lena’s Cafe, I quickly reconsidered my lifestyle change. Steak and eggs will have to wait for another day. A day when I feel up to the task of expelling a full meal deal. Until then, I’ll stick to french toast.

I’m not sure when my habit of breakfast for lunch really began. Perhaps in Michigan. Yeah… that’s right. It was in Michigan. It was that fateful day walking through Old Town with the woman who wrenched my heart out of my body. The woman who changed my idea of love. The woman who changed my notion of tolerance in a relationship. It was that day that I decided to hold my own in this world of lunchtime delights. No longer would I pass up breakfast, during any time of the day. Breaking the fast had seemed to be important only when I was setting off on a road trip or on a visit with more conventional friends or family members. Knowing that I had to move forward, I had a little more to eat. Knowing that I had to make my way out of that town and out on my own, I decided to keep breaking the fast by making breakfast the most important meal of MY day.

Little did she know that she was changing my eating habits as she was breaking my heart. Or perhaps she was breaking my fast in her own “very special” way.

Knowledge is power and I don’t plan on sharing my reasoning for my breakfast quirk with anyone.

“So, french toast again?” asked the pockmarked Mamma Lena. It took only three breakfasts of french toast for her to realize my little pattern. She knew not to cross me. Especially after a five hour meeting. I must have had an exhausted look on my face as I nodded my acceptance of the meal.


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