Bright yellow mustard gurgled its way from within the yellow plastic bottle lightly icing then smothering the hot dogs plump brown skin with its yellow lava. Dante stared at the salty yellow mustard overflowing the buns edges and beginning to cover his fingers, it was only then he stopped squeezing yellow plastic and took a bite devouring half the hot dog in one chomp.

Cheeks grimaced, lips pulled back in an exaggeration as the tangy mustard covering the deeply succulent hot dog filled his mouth. Anyone watching would have seen his shoulders lift toward his ears and his whole body briefly shake, he’d hoped for just this nostalgic reaction as the river of mustard painting the inside of his mouth slid down his throat.

Speaking in low tones of rapture Dante summoned a moment, a memory of leaning hard against a sea wall and awakening into self one summer not all that far off, he’d breakfasted on a hot dog overflowing with mustard that day as well. Curiously it all came flooding back, the last of the mustard licked from his lips.

Uncurling his white stiletto fingers beneath his brown sweater exposing them to the sun hovering above, and the spritz of an awakening Atlantic Ocean filling his lungs Dante genuflected in the mornings direction laying his fingers upon the thin layer of moisture glistening upon the concrete sea wall.“This is my altar” he said in a raspy voice, “I am the priest celebrating my awakening.” Leaning into the walls coldness his face filled with furrows, a brief shiver moved up his arms. Gazing far across the Atlantic as gulls rode late morning currents his eyes followed their effortless play while rhythmically sagging into and away from the damp wall.

Dante’s quiet was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, “where are you,” she asked while tightening her grip. “I was just remembering our first night together,” Dante responded without turning around to look. “Want to get breakfast” she asked, “How about a couple of hot dogs” he said as he turned and put his arms around her.

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