LXVIII.
from a Brobdingnagian crime scene.
Jen has brought us supplies: macchiato,
mocha, sous-vide soufflé egg bites.
The food, like the words, confuses
the tongue. It tastes like industry.
“The French eat to live,” she says. “We
eat to live long just enough to eat again.”
A Brobdingnagian croissandwich could
feed our party for a week. I know I will live forever.