The light was blinding, searing my being like I was an eye that couldn't squint. A voice: "Before this is all over, you will understand." That memory had always stuck with me. Understand what? The only thing I've come to understand since then is boredom. I leaned back against a metal-lattice park bench staring up at a gray, overcast sky. It got boring quickly. I hunched forward and rested my chin on my hand. Down below, tiny little ants were industriously disassembling a donut crumb next to my foot. I watched them go. Silly little bugs, eating, sleeping, and working their whole life just to get squished. I emphasized my thought by pressing my big toe down on one of them. I watched the assembly line break apart and scatter. Their whole existence was interrupted. I played with them a little more, blocking their paths, slowly picking them off one by one, but playing with bugs had never been very satisfying; their reactions were too... stiff.

I reached my power out and replaced them with something more interesting: joggers, businessmen, street vendors, parents, and young couples; one second they were going about their daily lives, the next they were the size of pebbles by my feet. I watched their horror. Their slow realization. Their wide-eyed faces as they tried to comprehend their new reality. Run, run, run, I thought, watching them scatter. I chased a jogger down with my heel. He was trying to sprint and look back at my hovering foot at the same time, and he tripped, falling into a heap on the ground. A little pressure and he popped. Some of them froze; I could take more time with them. I reached my perception out and listened to their thoughts with the same ease as flipping through radio stations. <*This can't be happening, this isn't real*> I've heard that one before, boring. She went splat as I pinched her between my toes. Her red viscera left a stain on my toenail, to my minor irritation. The others weren't any more interesting, so I decided to leave them be. They'd be picked apart by squirrels or birds or get stepped on by other unwitting park goers. I let out a sigh as I used my other foot to try to scrub the red ooze off my cuticle. Maybe something to eat. There was supposed to be a nice sushi restaurant nearby.

I reached out my perception and found it. Sue Shea's Sushi. The name warranted a little snort. Sue Shea was supposedly a world-renowned chef. I bet she'd make good sushi, the thought sent a dark satisfaction through me as I slipped my sandals back on and started walking. I passed by people on the street, they were like human insects, completely absorbed in their own lives, their work, their future. As industrious and boring as ants. I scoffed.

I pushed through the glass double doors and seated myself at the counter. I dragged my finger across the cool wood, feeling the grain pattern. A waitress bustled over to take my "ordaw."

"Let's see," I mused while paging through the menu. "I'll have the chef make a California Roll, the Sous-chef will make a spring roll, the other patrons will make a side of rice, the dishwasher can make my plate, and I guess you will make a nice sauce," I rattled off, handing her the menu back with a grin.

"What, ma'am?" she said, her face a mask of confusion. I reached my power out and transmuted their forms into food. The dishwasher came first, flattening out into a ceramic plate. Then the chef and sous-chef hovered over, changing in midair. The dozen other patrons piled on as a mound of rice, and the waitress, last but not least, oozed into a beautiful orange sauce.

"Wow, this looks really good," I gushed over them, licking my lips. I could sense the commotion in front of me -- the horror, the confusion, the cries. Delicious. I felt that familiar warm, dark feeling in my chest as I pulled apart my chopsticks. Right as I was about to dig in, the door opened.

A girl with blond hair and bright eyes walked into the empty store. It was eerily quiet for a restaurant. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you closed?" she asked. Her voice was sweet. Maybe she'd make a good dinner mint, I thought, but then a darker idea came to me.

"You just missed it. They all ran out back to look at something," I said. "They probably won't be back for a minute. Why don't you share with me?" My stomach burned with anticipation. "I don't mind."

"What's out there," the girl asked, a picture of innocence.

"I don't know. I decided to stay inside," I teased. She gave me an embarrassed smile.

"If you really don't mind," she said, sounding nervous. So naive.

"Please do, I ordered way too much and I would love your company." I pulled a stool out next to me. She was hesitant at first but she ended up sitting. I stole her another pair of chopsticks from the dispenser on the table and handed them to her, then I grabbed the chef-california-roll for myself and popped her in my mouth all in one bite. Her mind's shrill scream resonated in my psyche as her rice grains turned to mush and her seaweed belt was torn apart by my incisors. "So good," escaped my lips.

I watched, rapt and still chewing, as the girl picked up the sous-chef spring roll. Her glossy lips parted, and she took a delicate bite. The sous-chef's mind exploded with a wave of agony as his crispy skin fractured and his vegetable-filled insides spilled onto her tongue. All that torment from one little bite. A cute, appreciative smile appeared on her face as she chewed. "I heard this place was good, but this is really really good," she said as she looked at me with her bright brown eyes. I could feel a dark arousal stir in me, a heat in the pit of my stomach.

"They did make it extra special," I said, "I'm actually already full after that Chef Roll -I mean Chef's-Special Roll," I caught myself. "Like I said, I ordered too much. You can have the rest if you want." I really didn't need to eat at all; I was never hungry.

"Really?" she beamed. "Thank you so much. I've kind of been struggling with money recently, and I was saving up to try this place as a treat." She took another generous bite of the spring roll, the waitress-sauce slid down her chin.

"Oops," she said, catching it with her tongue. I had to fight not to breathe hard; I'm sure my delighted amusement was showing on my face.

In between bites, she told me all about how she moved here from a little town to pursue art, and about how nice I am, and how she's been having a tough time being alone. I nodded along, adding in here and there, but my focus was entirely on something else: The food screaming in her stomach, starting to digest. I had to make sure I wasn't salivating as I surreptitiously glanced at her svelte waist. "So, what do you think?" she asked.

"What? Sorry," I said, "I was somewhere else."

"About the food here?" she repeated.

"Oh, it is to die for," I said, smirking.

"Yeah," she patted her stomach, "it really is." Part of me wanted to end the game right then, stomp her out like a bug, see her smile turn to horror as the foot of the "nice stranger" came down on her, but another part stopped me. I'll let her go... for now. Let her food settle. I had to admit, having an unknowing accomplice added that "X" factor that I'd been missing recently. It'd be a shame to get rid of such a perfectly sweet girl so soon. Thoughts about other things I could have her do started to form in my mind.

"I just wanted to thank you again," she said, wiping her face with a napkin. "I've been having a hard time making friends lately, and it makes me feel better knowing that there's people like you out here."

A dark amusement gripped me. So ironic. But I could use this to follow up on her. "Y'know, I've been having some trouble making friends around here too -"

"Really? You?" she sounded astonished. "But you're soo nice, and pretty."

I paused for a second, off guard. "Well," I sputtered, "it's probably my bad people skills. Maybe we could meet again soon?"

A genuine smile was plastered on her face, big and unashamed. "Yeah, yeah. I'd like that. What about tonight? We could get drinks," she said eagerly.

Not like I have anything else planned besides walking around and playing with bugs. "I'm free tonight."

We both walked out, leaving the plate at the table. I watched her take a couple steps away, and then spin on her foot and wave at me, calling, "bye, see you tonight." Then she committed to leaving. I felt... excited. This was the first real plan I had made in over a year.