Chapter Five
Peter's Point of View
She stood there holding the knife as if it were a snake. I remembered those clothes, they were mine. A woman had never worn my clothes before, and here she was.
"I have something you might want to eat. Downstairs."
I didn't wait for her but left the door and headed down the stairs. There was a painting of my father wearing a red suit and sitting on an orange background.
I had arranged a table and two chairs by the fireplace. I sat down on one and waited for her to appear.
It was the first time in thirty years since I had a meal with someone. I wasn't sure how it made me feel, but it was different. On any other day, it was just me and the fireplace with my father's paintings looking down at me.
When she finally joined me, she looked at the plates arranged on the table, and asked, "What are we eating?"
"Meat," I said.
"What kind of meat?" she probed.
"Does it matter? We are beasts in human clothing."
