After nearly a month, my patience is gone.

My cheeseburger is on my plate, the top bun uncovered as I add onions and lots of tomatoes at Barone’s condiment counter. I drizzle it with ketchup – and glare at the shiny spot of table that is, once again, pitifully visible.

This small space use to be the home to my beloved: Mayonnaise.

Over the past three weeks, I’ve scrawled “Mayo” on the suggestions board in the cafeteria. I’ve hoped it was an accident, a misunderstanding. Maybe the mayo was misplaced.

Regardless, the mayo is still missing.

Did someone complain to the school that mayo is too unhealthy for Fairfield’s nutritious student population? Are condiments being cut out of the school budget?

Did someone loot the production factory of its mayo, just like $30 million dollars’ worth of maple syrup was kidnapped from Canada in late August?

If I want my favorite cheeseburger for lunch, I’ll have to splurge on a bottle of mayo the next time I’m in town. That or I’ll keep praying for a miracle.

I love you mayo. Please come home.

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