The parking garage on Pine and Boylston didn’t look like much from the street—fluorescent light shone out between its concrete layers as if from the facial orifices of an angular, mold-covered jack-o-lantern. Yet something drew me past the entrance’s row of tire spikes into the dumpster-lined interior of the parking garage. It was there that I found this pizza crust, barely visible between a van and a small Honda. The crust, which appeared to have been part of a slice of pepperoni, was surprisingly soft and fresh. It was cold from the pavement, but relatively clean except for some tiny gray rocks stuck in the sauce. Though no cheese remained on the crust, it was flavorful, with a slight aftertaste of what may have been Windex. The cement walls reflected enough light to make even the smallest of the rocks in the sauce easy to spot and avoid. Soft dough and pepperoni remnants fuelled my trek out of the fluorescent garage of discovery to the dark street, where a woman in a leopard-print dress yelled obliviously at Linda's patrons lounging against a wall.
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