The colors alone were mindblowing — soft white against ruby red, pale green brushing the edges, all glistening in the sunset’s dying light.
My stomach seemed to chant its own song, more like a rumble maybe, louder than I could have imagined possible, almost feral in its intensity. I pressed a hand to my belly, feeling both Hator and Sekhmet roll and twist, demanding, needing in my soul.
“Please let’s leave Kendrick here for a stage or something” Sekhmet said “Just a couple of weeks, he’s a fast learner” Hator added already wondering if we could organize a replica back home.
Doubted it.
Paolo knelt slightly to explain each element with gentle pride. “The burrata is from a small family farm near Naples. The shrimp, carefully sourced and kept alive until the moment of preparation, are ten
