Excerpt from "KALAS" (A. Glass 2020)
“May go easy on this...” Lowe says pointing to her drink with her left index finger as the waiter places down the ensemble of small dishes. “...Or, its bleagh!” With her open right palm, whilst sticking out her tongue briefly emulating an alcohol induced vomit. Kalas laughs, leaning back in her chair, holding up a folk with a sliced section of a wedge potato chip, deep fried with paprika, lemon and rosemary. She bites down on it. “What do you think of this virus,” Kalas asks, studying Lowe's reaction, while she cuts into a Spanish meatball cooked in tomato and lemon chilli sauce, sliding a portion onto the end of her folk, she places into her mouth. “Fuck, that's delicious…” Gently wiping her lips with a napkin, she lifts her drink, sipping. “...It's gonna hit hard, no one is prepared for it. Not even the hospitals.”
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