I never thought I’d eat a person.

I tried being a vegetarian once. At school everyone was vegetarian (I went to art school), everyone smoked, and every Friday everyone went out to protest: pensions, deaths at work, famines, genocides, pollution, wars, pensions. I smoked every day and protested every Friday, and for two months and four days I stopped eating meat.

I decided I’d eat Noah while we were drinking at a bar called Dirty. I ordered a paloma with mezcal and a thick rim of salt. Noah ordered a raspberry liqueur.

I wondered if I’d taste it – the raspberry – when I bit into him, and Noah asked why I was making that disgusted face.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

He went on telling me about the road trip with his friends in Croatia.

Maybe I’d taste it in his breath, on his tongue, but not in his blood or flesh.

“I hate raspberries.”

Noah stopped talking. He said he was sorry.

“You were thinking about raspberries?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

The music was loud. Italian trap. The bar was dark, the lights bright red. Noah looked embarrassed. He probably thought my disgust meant we were going to fuck, that I’d hate his breath.

I turned his embarrassment into fear, and liked it better that way.

I laughed, again.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little.”

When I bite off a piece of flesh, Noah screams. It's painful for me too because it's hard and I think I have a cavity somewhere. His blood is sweet. For a moment, I almost love him. Noah holds both hands on his neck and keeps screaming what the fuck are you doing, are you crazy? fuck, fuck, fuck and other curses full of “fucks”.

His erection is gone. He looks at me in shock.

Milan at night is beautiful.

I never thought I’d eat a person.

When I tell the taxi driver, he thinks I’m joking.

Elisa Carini lives in Milan. She is a teacher, writer, and translator. Her fiction and essays have appeared in Italian and international magazines. @elisecarini

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