She likes the legs best, the tender thighs, so much dark meat. After that the ribs, the long, leisurely stew in a marinade of Dijon mustard and olive oil. Hands and feet, into a lidded pot seasoned with a bouquet of herbs, the best broth in which to poach the brains.

Once she’s full, she strings his bones back together, careful not to confuse radius and ulna. She arranges his skeleton in a corner of the sofa and only then does she take off her clothes and curl up, naked in her adoration.

She so loves a guy with great taste.

Sarah Freligh is the author of Sad Math, winner of the 2014 Moon City Press Poetry Prize and the 2015 Whirling Prize from the University of Indianapolis. Her fiction and poetry work have appeared in Sun Magazine, Hotel Amerika, BOAAT Journal, diode, SmokeLong Quarterly, and in the forthcoming anthology New Microfiction: Exceptionally Short Stories (W.W. Norton, 2018).