Fried Chicken and Existential Crumbs: One Man’s Lunch Break Meltdown at Lawson

Gustavo had conquered his morning workload like a caffeinated warrior—half a shift’s worth of spreadsheets slain before noon. But victory came with a greasy price. His go-to lunch savior, Gaspar the home-cooked meal hustler, had ghosted the office. No adobo. No sinigang. Just silence and hunger. So Gustavo descended the corporate tower like a man condemned, muttering curses at the culinary void.…