Invited to a feast at the neighbor’s home. Why did I agree to this? I feel invisible amongst the more distinguished guests and so I recede into my own thoughts. Lost in my steak. Watching the juices roll down the slope of the plate, blood streaks the enamel pattern. Then comes the crunch of a celery stick breaking through my peace. Then another and another. I try to dismiss the smacking and crunching but each bite drills into my skull. I glance over at the man across from me and wonder how much currency he would give to avoid his own murder, which became more certain by the moment. Dessert cannot arrive soon enough.