The first thing I ate from her were her fingers. Truth be told, I would have preferred her lips, but I knew that was sacred, a dessert that had to wait.
The bed was a heavy monster, a legacy of the aunt, the one who drowned in the sea.
Moving her to put the bones in the well was a challenge, but I couldn't let her live on. She was good, and that taught me to cook.
I remember how the pigs would stand still when she hit them with the mallet, as if they knew their fate was sealed.
When I threw her into the tin tank, the fire burned brightly. Her flesh was soft, like that of young chickens.
I struggled to remove the skin from her back, but I succeeded. In the end, I cooked her breasts with chard, enjoying every bite.
She always said that good things should be savored, and I, at last, understood that.
Good things must be savored | Ecency
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