Digestion of a Ham Sandwich As I retell at the ham it up sandwich session on the home base before me, I start to find out queasy with disgust. The slab of ham is laced with fat. The white solid block off is just sitting there, taunting me. Daring me to eat it. The loot is stale, crumbling, falling apart. I know that as soon as I interrupt up the sandwich, the bread is going to molder in my fingers, going me with nothing but the malicious ham. No, I think to myself. I will not eat this sandwich. I just cannot tote up myself to put this, this thing into my mouth. I know that if I manipulate myself, I will solitary(prenominal) desex it into my stomach, and then it would become right back up.
I stand up and flip over to my kitchen sink. I blunt the cupboard door that is beneath, and I dump my sandwich into the garbage can. Now, I think to myself, what to do about lunch. I walk over to the refrigerator and open the door. My eyes start examine the shelves. Hmmm, nonoyes! I will make myself a turkey sandwich. ...If you want to get a full essay, localise it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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