The Leftovers Series Novels & Stories

He gently said. Vera sighed as he walked away. That was when she spotted the food on the dinning. He didn't touch his food? After all that cooking marathon? She sat to enjoy the food but some of his staff came to pick the food away. “Wait,” She stood up. “He isn't having them!” “We throw away leftovers, orders from Mr. Grey.” One of them said. Vera watched as they took all the food away. Wow! Wow Noah, wow!

Vera stood by the sea, her eyes hollow as she watched the ashes scatter in the wind. She returned to the company and announced her retirement at the board meeting. She sold all her shares and real estate, using the proceeds to establish a cancer relief fund named the "Mylo Foundation." Vera moved out of her luxury villa and into the cramped, dilapidated apartment Mylo had once rented. Just like Mylo used to, she woke up early every day to squeeze onto the bus and buy a burrito from the corner stand.

There was a trifle, a large and well glazed chocolate cake, a lot of cheesecakes and tarts as well as scoops of artisan looking ice cream. “I’m not going to finish all of this,” he pointed out. “Unless you can stomach three quarters of the amount here?” Darien looked a little green at the prospect. “Should I ask them to box up any leftovers for you to take home?” he asked in a much less smug tone of voice. Zach liked that idea. He could share the leftovers with Emilia and perhaps bring anything else to the office for everyone in the erotica department. “That sounds like a good idea. It saves it being wasted,” he said.

There was no telling how many days those leftovers had been sitting around. The holiday ham, usually the centerpiece of a festive dinner, was already carved down to the bone. There was barely any meat left on it. I had no idea why it was even on the table. Perhaps Mrs. Hearth already realized that I wasn't easy to push around. She spun the lazy Susan and moved all the meat dishes in front of me. She said, "I've never had the heart to eat this lobster. Since you're here today, you should have it. I'll just eat the leftovers."

"You can't cook new meals? And is your school cafeteria closed? Why did you have to bring leftovers?" Leftovers! He was James Lu! No one in his house should be eating LEFTOVERS! Elizabeth's the woman he was going to marry, and she just got diarrhea from eating leftovers... Isaac Bai and Benjamin Cheng would have a field day if they find out about this. "Because we didn't finish dinner." He shouted angrily at her, "You don't know how to throw away dinner?" "But..." Elizabeth said feebly, "You're the one who said frugality is a virtue."

I counted three separate locks on the door. “Ladies first,” Bart said, indicating the bucket. I crawled off my straw and over to the bucket, looking in. I gagged. When Bart said that we got the leftovers from the prior day, he didn’t say that they scraped all of the plates into the bucket. There were bones and fat and half eaten pastries shoved into the bucket. I could see fish bones with the heads still attached, and an eyeball looking up at me. Some sort of greasy gravy covered everything, and it smelled putrid. I backed away quickly, but I was unable to stop the bile from coming up. I leaned over to the side and vomited on the floor.

It was an email from HR. They confirmed my resignation and asked me to prepare my handover. The company was efficient. I had to finish the handover within three days. I opened the airline app and booked a flight to Asheville in three days. Then I ordered takeout. When it arrived, I slowly went to the dining room and prepared to eat lunch. My phone buzzed twice again. Sophie had updated her social media. [Happiness is having someone to eat delicious food with.] The picture showed two hands clinking aluminum takeout containers together. Inside the containers were sweetbreads sprinkled with scallions and cilantro.

The room contained only two thin blankets and a few sets of maid's clothes. Nothing else.Except for the food on the table. The food was haphazardly pieced together, like scraps for a stray dog. It was takeout he'd ordered, meant to humiliate her, to make her beg him. Now, looking at it all, he understood. He was the one who had pushed her away. He roared, overturning the table, smashing the dishes to pieces. As if destroying everything would erase everything he had done.His legs gave way.

Inside the Moretti family, someone had already taken his place. The last line said he no longer spoke. Every day, he only wiped Arthur Westmore's memorial tablet until his fingers bled. I finished reading and placed the report in the fire. The flames swallowed those names quickly. The old bookkeeper brought me a cup of tea. "Miss, what would you like for dinner tonight?" I lifted my eyes to the window. Sunset lay across the lake, turning the water to broken gold. Downstairs, several children chased a black cat along the stone street, their laughter rolling all the way up to my office.

His clothes reeked of women's perfume, so strong it made me wince. A message popped up on my screen. "What kind of desserts do women like?" I remembered something from two years ago. "Every woman in the pack is obsessed with lemon bars lately. They say it tastes like first love—sweet and sour. I kind of want to try them too." "You're almost 30. Isn't it pathetic, copying a bunch of teenage girls?" Jerry muttered, giving me a look of pure disdain. But now, he showed up in the middle of the night with a whole box of them. I ignored him, flipping through my medical charts.