The Blacksmith Restaurant Reviews Novels & Stories

A side of humiliation served on bone china. The server a stiff-backed man with an earpiece coiled around his ear like a venomous snake set the tray on the dining table without meeting my gaze. "Mr. Blackstone's compliments." I stabbed the yolk with unnecessary force, watching golden liquid hemorrhage across the plate. "Does he want a report on how I chew, too? Or is he just watching that live?" No answer. Just the quiet "click" of the electronic lock engaging behind him. Between bites of food that tasted like ashes, I conducted a reconnaissance of my gilded prison: