I read "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" last summer and I vaguely remembered thinking how incredibly isolating it must feel to taste the feelings of the cook who prepared your food and the farmer who harvested the raw materials.
Once again I went to Chipotle for dinner. I ordered the chicken bowl--grain fed, antibiotic free chicken, organic guacamole and salsa, five star chilies, brown rice and black beans. I took one bite and more until I ate a quarter of my meal. I dipped my tortillao chips in my guacamole and I pushed it away.
My meal tasted of relationship disappointment and love turning into grief on yet another cloud day in downtown Bellevue.
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