Status: I may be you, you may be I.

Chicken Chowmein


This time my hunter is a boy. The beards are slightly visible in his face. Suddenly I become afraid of his look. He is quite different from the noodle maker. Even the smile of the cook is not in his lips.

The boy holds the fork. Then rolls my fingers. He pauses to pour some chili sauce and this time attacks my head. Other body parts are separated from my neck. My forehead is chewed first. I search for my hands to stop the devourer. But he wins to kill my heart.