A lot of my favourite kind of work revolves around identity, and a huge part of who we are is what we eat. In this savage, beautiful story, the opposite is true—the main character is employed as a chef by an elderly woman called Dorothy. The recipes produced are sublime, their effect on Dorothy is rapturous. However, in between these moments of epicurean joy, the nameless chef recalls memories of her partner, a woman called Leda who suffers from anorexia. The use of sensory imagery and tactile language is hauntingly underscored with taut agony; the story clamps down onto the meat of childhood, and pares gristle from bone until we finally understand the purpose of the specially curated meal plans made with only Dorothy in mind. Revenge, here, is a dish best served gourmet.

“I imagined myself an abuelita chomping her sweetness with my teeth. Saying ai, qué rico. How delicious. There in the hospital I took her face in my hands. Felt its angles, its ursine lanugo. God, I said. God. God. You were beautiful.”

First published in The Dark, May 2018 and available to read here