The only thing scarier than a late-night dinner party with people you don’t know is a late-night dinner party with people you don’t know and no snacks.
Thirty minutes have passed, awkwardly idling around the periphery of the room, surreptitiously searching for a table of small bites, to no avail. It’s already past the usual dinner hour and you swear you can hear your stomach growling louder than the low din of the crowd. No on else seems troubled, though. Are the other guests not suffering from the same hunger? Could it be that they’ve already fed, on something more nefarious than cheese and crackers? It’s best not to ask.
Contemplating a silent escape back out into the darkness, a platter materializes from the shadows. It arrives almost as if summoned, carried through the room by an unseen hand. No one else seems to notice, but the time for restraint has long passed. If you have to take the first, and at this rate, the last bite, so be it. Every passing minute without food feels like another minute closer to death.
Looking down at the bruschetta perched atop a stiff napkin, perhaps its already too late. Luminous like an apparition against the backdrop of jet-black beluga lentils, those thick slabs of feta look otherworldly. Are those cavernous eyes peering back at you? A gaping, cavernous mouth screaming out in the void?
No, get a grip, you’re just hungry. Best to graciously accept and eat your appetizer and stop overthinking. It’s not the raucous Halloween party you expected, though you have to say, it’s surprisingly spirited nonetheless.
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