When Chili Wins

Chili nachos work for about thirty seconds.

At first, the ratio makes sense. Chips. Cheese. Chili on top. You can still lift a bite without structural collapse.

Then someone pours more.

The crunch disappears. The chips soften from the center outward. The plate shifts from stacked layers to a single mass. You stop reaching. You start scooping.

You keep calling them chili nachos because that’s what you ordered. That’s what you meant to make.

But chili doesn’t stay on anything. It spreads. It saturates. It changes the classification.

You tell yourself you’re eating chili nachos. But the truth is simpler. You’re just eating chili.

The chips are still present. They’re just no longer in charge.