Damn Variables!
The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the aisles overflowing with mass-produced goods. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a familiar ache in this world obsessed with bland, magic-infused mush they called food. Tonight, I craved something more substantial, something with a hint of meat, the primal satisfaction a juicy steak could offer.
Pushing open the automatic doors, I scanned the aisles, a mental list forming of ingredients. Canned vegetables and processed meats lined the shelves, a stark reminder of the limitations placed upon those who lacked the means to acquire better. Just as I reached the meat section, a wave of amusement washed over me. Here, nestled amongst the pre-packaged mediocrity, were trays of "Prime Cut Steaks" – a bold claim for the pale slabs I inspected.