Aftertaste: A Novel

by Daria Lavelle

The Living, after all, ate mostly to remember. They marked their lives in food. In birthday cakes, and champagne toasts. In bowls of ketchup soup and Michelin-starred menus. In cups of coffee. In Happy Meals. In sides of fries. In Sunday dinners with Gigi or Yaya or Nǎi Nai or Ba. To eat was to celebrate. Food was living, after all; food was love. It was how the Living coped. How they kept going. Shorthand for their entire lives.