Cuisine

Something that I said I'll never be, I'm slowly becoming. I was half way to a white empty plate when I realized it. Instinctively my eyes raised and stopped on where she sat, an empty seat now, next to a burning cigarette consuming itself in the ash tray on the table, the ignited tip far from the brown-yellowish end. I was reading but I stopped to concentrate in forming a dull and surprised-looking expression thinking of how I wanted her to see me when she would come, even though that moment would not arrive soon. I think she only mentioned it once, she didin't brag about it, she never felt superior or even different, for that matter, in any way, she wasn't trying to convince me or others of her belief. I don't really know how I came across the thought and feeling that something is missing, that something might be wrong or... not right, or different in any way but it hit me right there and then like the Sun temporarily blinds the caveman when he emerges from his cave. I looked again, just to be sure - you know - but reality was not to be altered, no matter how I was handling it. Somehow, it seemed pretty obvious, easy to explain. She was a vegetarian and, since she was cooking for me, she was not serving any meat. But the mere fact that she said nothing about it, that she would do it mellow - but not in a secretive fashion - made my discovery so much more interesting and surprising. The scary part was how I never noticed these simple facts until now, how she knew this and how she took pleasure abusing it. As unconscious as I was eating anything, I was unconsciously being turned to eat only some things.