Candy Rose

Chère Ana, S'il Vous Plaît Léger Comme Une Plume

Translation: Dear Ana, Please, light as a feather. . . . Just one more bite. The metal prongs placed a large chunk of dark greasy steak between my lips. The fork scraped against my teeth as I devoured the meat. My tongue electrified with pleasure after every oozing bite of flavor. Just one more bite. The white fluff of thick mashed potatoes slid down the back of my throat. Instinctively knowing the exact destination to quench my torturous hunger. Just one more bite. Just. One. More. Bite. The sound of food slapped on my plate like slop rippled through my ears. To me, this sound, it was beautiful. Like the soloist of a chorus. Or the final act of a miraculous play. I danced with it. I danced with this sound as if it was a part of me. It was something you could almost taste. Even smell. I lived in happiness, I breathed contentment, and I cried desperation with this sound until it not only became a part of me, but was me.