Aw, look at my little bodega sandwich --a roast beef sandwich, which I ordered hot because the new guy that makes the sandwiches definitely smokes a lot more than the old guy, and I know they don't really use gloves. Yeah, you call eating this sandwich gross, but I call that trust. Gross trust. Man, I've had more sandwiches from my bodega lately than I really care to admit. But I got disgustingly sick last Thursday and ate nothing except sandwiches from my bodega and a bagel that I had delivered with soup. Yes, bagel delivery. Thank you, New York. Those probably weren't the best options for a sick person, but such is life in the food desert that is my neighborhood (and fridge). Real food, I will come back for you soon.