Chapter 3
Late Tuesday afternoon. I needed food and lots of it. I wanted to ask Jerry “J” Winslowski on a date. Nothing too spectacular. Our history together wasn’t anything special: mediocre friendship, a few dates, some great s*x. A year ago, we met at a bar called Under in Templeton, another town nestled against Lake Erie. We were never lovers. In fact, I barely really liked him because he was arrogant, narcissistic, and rude. I couldn’t count how many times he had counteracted what I had to say in any conversation, always belittling me, calling me foolish and unintelligent.
Truth told, I only kept the chemist who worked for Balin Pharmaceuticals around to enjoy as food. At thirty-two, he was a hearty and healthy meal for me. Someone with sweet blood. Deliciousness. A certain male who
