Tagged: Food (993)

T 5668

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

I’m having a moment, he says. She rolls her eyes and says, You make a big deal out of everything. But the sandwich won’t come back by itself.

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T 5665

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

It was spring, and they went for a walk. The lilacs were blooming. The flowers smell like smoked mackerel, he noted. She knew he was trying.

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T 5659

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

Because I felt lost. Because the sun felt harsh and not warm. Because she said I smelled like salami. But that was a lie. I don’t eat salami.

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T 5656

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

She had been gone for a few days, away on business, and the house was a mess. He opened a bag of chips, and called her. I miss you, he said.

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T 5650

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

Someone says, This brand has lost its way, and someone else says, No it’s just in the toilet, and then everyone jetted off to Italy and ate.

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T 5649

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

I asked why I had become his enemy. He told me it was because I liked cake. He was into pie, he said. And I took the information like a man.

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T 5647

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

He lied to her and said, I’m a biochemist. She said, I’m a vegetarian, and he didn’t know what this meant because she had just lied as well.

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T 5646

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

Regret hovered in the air like a morning’s fog. Or smoke. From the barbecue. And the burnt chicken. Burnt because of inappropriate flirting.

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T 5645

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

He steps out of the café and lights a smoke. She follows him and says, You disappoint me. He picks the falafel out of his teeth. And coughs.

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T 5644

By Arjun Basu | Published: June 3, 2012

This isn’t fettuccine, he says and he crosses his hands and pouts, and she rolls her eyes. So I changed things, she says. And then he cries.

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