Klesko was holding his food in both hands. He took a bite, looked at it, took a bite. That's how he ate.
"Consider being as inhuman in your writing as you are in your trading."
Klesko was a nasty man. I wasn't sure what he meant by that but wasn't in the mood to engage so I just asked.
"What's that you're eating?"
"An ankle."
I pretended not to hear, finished my grilled cheese, rinsed the plate and walked behind him back into my room. I lowered myself onto the mattress, trying not to let the box springs squeak. I lay there a minute then thought fuckit, I had meant to fill a glass with water and keep on the night table.
I could still hear Klesko chewing.
Fuckit, I thought, and just lay there.
