Bento

“Honey, I brought sushi.”

She picked a juicy morsel with her bare fingers.

Dinner was fresh as our relationship was stale.

“Really, honey, you ought to learn how to use chopsticks.”

Threads of saliva and meat juice dribbled down her chin.

“Fuck’s sake, Judy, you’re acting like a beast!”

“You’re ashamed of me? Is that it?” she growled, her expression savage.

We stared at our dinner…

The organs sat neatly inside the ripped torso… like a nice bento box.

I handed her a napkin. “We’ll dine out tomorrow. Promise.”

Finally, she smiled, strands of Japanese flesh dangling between her teeth.