The Pains
The remaining grains of rice on my plate cling to each other as if they are trying to avoid the fingers hovering above them. They seem to move about the plate without my even touching them - fleeing, rolling, sticking to the remaining clump of wasabi guarding the edge. When I look down at my plate, I see the food that had been there with them, but that has now disappeared - gone into the jumbled up inner-workings of my body. Gravy is no more, it is now gradually cooking at body temperature, mine. That's when it starts - sometimes it begins with a low rumble in my hip sockets - a vibration that spreads through my muscles and settles uncomfortably in my elbows. On occasion, the pang will come directly from where the food has supposedly gone - a naked rumble that I think everyone can hear. That, I think, is when my eyes start to melt backwards into my body. This, I believe, is when my auditory system starts to shut down to the world. This, is definitely when I start feeling that t...