I couldn’t decide which I wanted to eat more, so I took both, first slicing the pectorals away from the chest wall in smooth, heavy sheets, and next following the intestine trail through the belly to find the stomach. It was swollen as an old boot. I turned the stomach inside out, spilling the contents onto the floor. Chunks of chicken, shards of broccoli, and bits of white somethings, possibly orecchiette. I’d always told Marco to chew his food better. I felt almost nostalgic, seeing how right I’d been.
