I reached out and held Megan’s hand. It was cold, clammy and too soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the door to the kitchen swing open. There was something on the counter that couldn’t possibbly be there. The door shut on the backswing and when it opened again, I was staring as hard as I could, paying very close attention. I was rewarded with a sickening confirmation of my previous suspicion- that I had in fact seen a frost covered infant’s foot.

I looked at the pot of stew in front of me, filled with meat that wasn’t actually identifiable, with a growing feeling of nausea. The food on every table began to take on a sinister quality. Who among us was eating what?

As one all of the customers put their food down and looked at us intently. All the waitresses stopped and joined them. It was unsettling to come under such scrutiny.

“You didn’t mean to what?” Megan asked sniffling. Then she noticed all the attention we were recieving. “What did you do?”

“Get out of here!”