The Cheese Stretch

My fingers twitched, and for the first time, I felt the actual weight of the crust in my hand. I gave the slice an experimental little lift, half expecting the absurdly long strand of melted cheese anchoring me to the box on the floor to snap. It didn't. It just gave a slow, rubbery tug back against my wrist. That's serious structural integrity for late-night takeout. Candlelight flickered across the grease and pepperoni, and I decided right then that if this was my starting position, I was completely fine seeing how long the stretch could hold.