My legs are hollow and broken.
Each one burnt wood, smoke and glowing embers. My stomach is a sheet on a line. It is lined with ash. I haven’t eaten for 12 hours.
From the hob there are three clicks and then blue flame. It is the first sign of the end of this problem.
A frying pan into which goes chicken, black pepper, vinegar, maybe five spices.
There is heat on my tongue, around my teeth into my belly.
The smoke is cleared, the embers explode. My stomach is at full roar.
It is now 5am. The sun is almost risen; it’s fire reflecting my own.
I don’t need to be awake to feel filled.