My family was standing around the kitchen and I was holding a cold convenience-store-bought hamburger. I popped it into the microwave for 10 seconds while absentmindedly looking at the television in front of the white couch. It wasn’t like our home to have unpainted walls but that’s neither here nor there. I took my food back out and walked around to the bar table to start eating. My brother was talking about how he didn’t like his chicken sandwich to which my mother, standing in front of the sink with the aforementioned sandwich in her hand, asked me about the quality of sandwiches from the store. I replied that I knew of them having some good ones but I wasn’t sure about the chicken sandwich.