My feet slip on the small metal dowels that fell out of the cabinet. “What are those?” Jax bends over and picks up one of the thin utensils. “They look like shish kabob sticks.” I stare at him blankly. “Explain? Is that English?” Jax smiles and shakes his head. “No. Well, it is, but I don’t think it is? Shit. You put meat on these and roast them. Veggies too.” He holds one over a dead burner and pretends to turn it over. “See?” All I see are thousands of thin stabby devices.
