The filet mignon fit inside my palm perfectly, like a rare ruby. It was bright red, a healthy red. And it seemed to glisten even in the faintest of light. The blood dripped from the meat. It slipped through my fingers like raindrops. I couldn’t hold back. I took a large, desperate bite. My teeth sank through it as though it was butter, scraping against my palm. There was a spurt of liquid in my mouth—and the blood leaked past my lips. The taste was so sharp, I thought it would dry out my tongue. But the meat dissolved like cotton candy. Salty and delicate.
