Meat

It was a little stall, just outside the finishing school when I was a young adult. An umbrella over a wheelbarrow with a grill on it. The owner, a tiny wrinkled woman, would take small pieces of meat and cook them in a black sauce, then serve it in a green leaf. She always had a supply, somehow never running out. Best food I ever had.

The night before the battle, I reminisced about it with the squad, and it seemed everyone had a similar story.

Until it became clear that everyone had the exact same story, the same woman.