She licked her lips. “Are you hungry?” she said. “I’m hungry.” I must have looked worried, for she said, “For some chicken, moron.”
Which is how the pichal pairi and I went to eat Shahi Murgh Chanay at Lakshmi.
i’ll be honest, i didn’t think i was going to like this one. the romance, the hashtaggy title, the teeth-grittingly, cringe-inducing description of farah as Woke, but somehow vintage at the same time; all signs pointed to Not for Me.
as it went on, once the sweet meet-cuterie of it all progressed into something more interesting, more weighty, once a goldang pandemic was introduced into the story, well—now you have my attention, kiddo.
actually, it had my attention here:
Were you ever bullied as a kid, Farah?
What do you think, genius?
I’m so sorry.
Was it at school?
Did you get mad?
A little. On the first moonless night of my adolescent cycle I ate him.
but it sustained my attention once the stakes were raised beyond 🎵’boy and pichal pairi sittin’ in a tree,’🎵 and i really liked the direction it scuttled off into.
it pays to Try New Things.
read it for yourself here: