Westfield Plaza Mall occupies a tower. We enter through the ground floor, force sliding doors open and wriggle inside the food court of the mall and squeeze the doors closed and we’re hiding, and our hearts are hammering, and we need to keep low, still, and stiff but there are three chicken wings in a tub of grease in the cold oven of the KFC outlet and our resolve just can’t compete when food’s calling. Doesn’t matter if it’s icy and hard. It’s also salty and tangy and I can’t deny it’s delicious.
Hunger is the best sauce, Omar Saleh once told me. God, I miss that dude. Not boyfriend material. Not a husband or a father. Just a guardian. A friend who wanted nothing but laughs. He would love it here. He’d be spearing dogs and cats right now.
I peel off the most interesting slivers of meat
