The greasy food didn’t agree with my
stomach. But I took immense pleasure
watching Aunty wade into her battered
fish, like it was her first meal after a dire
catastrophe. When Aunty had finished,
I watched her fold her chip paper neatly,
and lick paws, as if she was a deeply
contented cat. I was half expecting her
to burp, but Aunty was too much of a
lady for such gross displays. William
and Uncle both digested their meals like
savage barbarians. My shameless brother
even grabbed at my leftovers. Nobody
spoke. I quietly suggested coffee. Aunty
nodded her head, and beamed. I smiled
widely too. This was fabulous.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

181 thoughts on “Grease”

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