Omakase
By Christine H. Chen
Only the best for you, honey, I say to my husband.
Our server, Raoul, black bow tie and white gloved, places the amuse bouche on our table: quail egg on a bed of chopped daikon, topped with a sprig of basil, and a dash of cayenne pepper.
My husband frowns after slurping the cold slime.
Wait for the next surprise, I tell him.
Raoul sets up a chafing copper bowl. He lifts its cover with a grand gesture. A mount of squirmy nightcrawlers.
Cooked or raw, Raoul asks, turning the heat up.
The worms twitch and climb to the rim.
THE END
Author Bio: Christine H. Chen was born in Hong Kong and grew up in Madagascar before settling in Boston where she worked as a research chemist. A recipient of the 2022 Massachusetts Cultural Council Artist Fellowship, her fiction has appeared in The Pinch, Fractured Lit., SmokeLong Quarterly, Pithead Chapel, Wigleaf Top 50 Very Short Fictions 2023, Best Microfiction 2024, Best Small Fictions 2024, and other journals and anthologies. Read her stories at www.christinehchen.com