Some people collect stamps, but my grandmother's a champion saver of soggy pizza box inserts. She'll find one at the back of the garage from 1992 and hold it up like it's the Mona Lisa, pointing to the exact spot where our cat's name was written in grease. I've tried to interest her in more conventional souvenirs, but she's always returning to the cardboard relics. The first time I realized I could get my high school graduation dinner at the pizza place where my grandmother used to stash those crumpled boxes, fate aligned in a way that was almost too embarrassing.
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