Answer:
The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it, never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that heβs using it.
My life can be measured in hours. I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.
Two bodies have I, though both joined in one. The more still I stand, the quicker I run.
Two little holes in the side of a hill. Just as you come to the cherry-red mill.
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
This food is a tortilla filled with cheese and sometimes chicken before being heated or cooked.