French Fry Flashback

Yesterday I was digging around my snack drawer for loose Starburst, and was amazed to find that — even when I thought I'd consumed the last one — still another would appear whenever I'd search for another. This drawer seemed to be the proverbial Santa's Sack of fruit-flavored goodness.

But somewhere between the Trident sugarless gum and the packets of green tea, I had a McDonald's drive-thru (childhood) flashback:

Digging into the bag after finishing everything in the corrugated container and thinking — hoping! — that just one more fry might remain. And there, in the corner of the bag, you'd almost always find at least one (sometimes two!). What is it about this fry that always made it taste so much better than all the rest? And why was it always so terribly devastating when your palm returned empty-handed?

I miss simple thrills.