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I had just come from a vast, brightly lit foot court, where the chairs were white plastic, the tables, floor, and counters were white marble slabs> It had a (low) ceiling resembling the ceiling of the business school. It sort of looked like that french restaurant near school too. Light streamed in from above, and I went to order something at the counter.

Walking with somebody into a brightly lit and spacious room resembling that old physics lounge, I attempted to eat a twix bar, which I unexpectedly found in my left jacket pocket. There was something wrong with the cookie part, and it tasted like bad vitamins. I spat crumbs into the trash and threw the bar in.

I proceeded to blame Michael Bloomberg. Was that who I was walking with? Maybe it was because of his paternalistic concern for the health of others, he had enriched the twix cookie to its flavor-death?