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fowl memories

fowl memories

in remembrance of pw i went to that chicken place she used to frequent.

she was the daintiest savage eater i’d ever seen. in the beginning i didn’t talk to her much because i’d felt we were too different. she was forty-five years older than me, always made up, hair perfectly coiffed, finger nails perfectly manicured and her body at her age struck me as something out of place; she had the body of a fifteen year old lana turner. the only other thing that looked out of place were her eyes. i think she’d had one too many plastic surgeries, so when she blinked her eyelids never completely closed and if i’m correct, it was my staring at her during lunch hour one day that opened up the lines of communication.

she’d ordered a whole chicken from a small shop across the street from our office. no sides, no drink – just a whole roasted chicken. it wasn’t a mukbang but it looked awful similar. she zoned out when eating the chicken, tearing it apart bone by bone and having no discrimination between skin and fat. one day she stopped mid savagery to ask if i wanted a piece and i know i stuttered when i told her no thank you and i also know that’s why she stopped to wipe her mouth and hands and chat with me for a minute.

after a few weeks of eating lunch together i learned she’d come from a wealthy family and had spent her life in the field of modeling and philanthropy. she was divorced with two adult children, one boy, one girl and at the time neither were speaking to her. she didn’t need the job but believed in the mission and in some ways, it was work that was expected of her. after a year of listening to her stories i learned she was like a child, super kind, super sweet and super naive.

anyway, that chicken place isn’t there anymore and since that was nearly twenty years ago it wasn’t a surprise. that office wasn’t there anymore either. it was just as well cause it lent me to focus on my memory of her eyes, how they’d been fashioned for youth and how they matched her spirit. so that’s how i’ll remember her. nah, not really. i bet god gifted her an endless chicken farm and an endless supply of outdoor grills to match.

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