“It’s good, right?” Megan asked insistantly.

I didn’t answer right away because something odd was happening to our food. A bubble of cheese was growing in the clay pot. It had started off small, perhaps the size of a dime but had swelled to the size of a quarter since it first caught my eye. My sense that something wasn’t right grew along with the bubble of cheese.

“Please don’t ignore me.”

Maybe direct action was needed. I gently prodded the center of the opaque cheese dome with my fork. There was an audible popping sound as the steel tine of the fork penetrated the wall of the bubble. It began to deflate, collapsing in upon itself while leaking a mix of cheese and deep dark red sauce.

“Gross! Did you see that?”

Megan didn’t answer. It wasn’t until I heard her sniff that I turned to her. One hand was on her forehead, hiding her eyes. I started to ask why she was crying, but I realized the answer before the words made it out of my mouth. I had just called the food she had tried to share with me, gross.