Chapter 22
“You are sure you don’t want to try anything new?” Miessa asks.
“No, I am one hundred percent sure. I need to get some of my food,” I insist.
“Alright, your loss.” She and Dita head around the corner to a little pub that serves food more up their alley with the intention to meet up with us in roughly an hour.
I hurry, nearly skipping to the Latin vendor. I sigh at the spicy spell of cumin, paprika, and chili powder. Kathel and I order several empanadas to share, which are quickly cooked up fresh, and deposited in my hand. Hot, with oil still popping on the beautiful golden-brown pastry.
Kathel and I lean against a wall, devouring the last few bites. “How did someone get authentic empanadas this far across the galaxy?” I ask around a mouthful of food. “Like this is amazing.
