On the floor

I sat there in silence staring at the sumptous banquet placed before me, and found myself unable to enjoy it. I could think of nothing but long hours spent in front of a stove, of a lone woman spending interminable lengths of time in moist darkness, chopping vegetables and baking bread, curing meat and boiling pasta. I picked up a checkin drumstick, put it in my mouth and chewed and looked in the doorway. All I saw was the silhouette of a large mangy beast, probaly an ape. It stood there, bright shiny eyes piercing directly into my heart. I looked down into my food, unable to eat.

Here is how this story was written: one day I was hanging out with some freinds in their apartment, a conversation took place that I now forget all the details of, but I do know that I advised them to "write a story about it", and they said, "Why don't you write a story about it?" So I did, and then I read it to them. I think they liked it.