It strikes again

I am eating another plain hot dog bun, not five minutes later. The taste of white flour would not escape my tongue, so it cried for more.

Sometimes, when I was in high school, my mom would make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a hot dog bun. Even though it was good, when I would first see it sitting there in my lunchbox, I would turn a shallow shade of pink.

Now I would really like it if my mom packed me a lunch.