Member-only story
Fiction
The Disappearing Dishes
Food is love, all the way to the end
Once upon a time, my dishes got smaller and smaller. It all started when I returned from the kitchen one day. Eita had finished the rice, miso soup — everything except…
“How come you left these?” I asked, pointing at the plate that had held the tonkatsu cutlets.
He blinked at me as if I’d spoken in a foreign language. Then he lowered his head and said, “Oh, you mean the cherry tomatoes?”
I nodded.
“Well, they’re more of a decoration anyway.”
“They aren’t, but that’s not the point — you’ve never left anything before.”
Eita put down his chopsticks. “Guess I’m not very hungry.”
“You’ve never been not hungry before.”
“Well… for one reason or another, I can’t finish your food today. Sorry.”
I sighed. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. This isn’t a big deal.”
Besides, it’d only happened once.
Or twice.
“How come you left these?” I asked.
“You mean the lettuce?” Eita looked down at his almost finished tuna salad. “Well, I’ve never been a fan of greens, you know that.”
