Life in November

by Haley Warren

I squint, half-tempted to rub my hands against my eyes, like I can make it go away and pretend I’m not a thirty-year-old woman, haunted by the ghosts of food that used to control her life. And then I see those numbers—eight, seventeen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-two. Ethan grabs my plate, dragging it over to his side of the table, the other hand pushing one of his in front of me. This dish, I recognize. I’ve had it before. Mi Goreng. Vegetarian. Onion. Bok Choy. Shallot. Cabbage. One somehow perfectly cooked fried egg on top. “Why’d you do that?” I look up, lips parted, everything about me feeling so fucking heavy, but my lungs feel fuller because I like the looks of this dish. It’s something I would have picked for myself. Ethan shrugs, grabbing a rib with his bare hands and looking beyond me at the TV hanging over the bar. “Yours looks better.”

oh hes sweet