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Some evenings, I was so hungry, I would walk into the refrigerated case and scoop up a handful of the pre-shredded cheese to eat. I was tempted to pinch off pieces of raw dough, but that would have been too noticeable.

I had to be quick.

Whenever Dave sent me into the cooler to bring out a new bin of pepperonis, I’d sneak a mouthful of shredded cheese.

Pepperoni was the most popular topping.

That and sausage.

After that it was lush peppers, banana peppers, and mushrooms.

The black olives waited on the counter, barely noticed, a glistening film slowly spreading over the surface of the bin.

If I had been smart, I would have stuffed my mouth with them. Dave would never own noticed. But the cheese coated my stomach and took the edge off my hunger.

I worked three jobs the summer of 1978 in Raleigh, North Carolina. I needed to make enough money to help offset some of the costs of living in New York City, where I was heading in a month or so for graduate school.

I didn’t have much wealth for food, but more than that, I hardly had second to shop, let alone bake. I was up at 8:00 am to catch the bus to West Jones Street