I get immense pleasure from reading the following excerpt from "The Opposite of Love" by Julie Buxbaum. I just like to read it over and over again so I'm posting it here for posterity.
"Last night, I dreamt that I chopped Andrew up into a hundred little pieces, like a Benihana chef, and ate them, one by one. He tasted like chicken. Afterward, I felt full but slightly disappointed. I had been craving steak."
It's funny, right?
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