An Ode to Coop Chicken and Fries

Dear Coop Chicken and Fries,

You are the love of my life, the apple of my eye. When I am feeling down, I know you will always be there to pick me up. Had a rough Calculus test? You'll be there; I know from experience. Your warm, crispy texture brightens my day and soothes any ailments, both emotional and physical. I might even have an addiction to you. Earlier this afternoon I walked to the Coop, repeating to myself the whole way the mantra, "I will not get Coop chicken. I will eat healthy today." But when I walked by you, let's just say that was my fatal flaw. You were fresh out of the kitchen, gleaming in the heat lamps, just waiting to be eaten. It was before the usual lunch rush and you remained relatively untainted, privy to my eyes only. Seeing the beautifully crispy exterior, I was unable to walk away. I ordered an entire box, saying to the person behind the counter "Fill 'er to the brim" (actual quote). I may have spent eight dollars, but it was all worth it. I believe that almost any problem can be solved via Barbecue chicken and french fries. I am left so satisfied after eating my meal: there truly is not better way to spend my lunch money. You, Coop chicken and french fries, have been instrumental in my emotional well-being throughout the past three and a half years. Truth be told, saying goodbye to you might be the hardest part of going to college.

Yours truly, Atticus