The green olive is stuffed with a whole clove of garlic. The flesh is soft and tangy, the garlic, crunchy but not overpowering. You have read a factsheet that says garlic is particularly good at preventing stomach and prostate cancers. Recently, you have taken to roasting whole bulbs in the oven, then spreading the garlic paste on a slice of Soreen malt loaf.
Alex sometimes calls you the vampire slayer.
Alex makes the sound: “Eeeee,” while turning one page of the book back and forth. Alex’s feet are half-way in direct sunlight. Like they’re slowly being repainted.
The sun will reach you within ten minutes.
You remember that, once, in Spain, when you were young, you fell asleep on the beach. Your mother put a beach towel over you as protection. Except the towel wasn’t long enough – it couldn’t cover both your feet and your head.
When you awoke, an hour and a half later, you could not stand up. It was four days before you were able to put on socks. Your skin came away like flip-flops, kicked off around the apartment. You got piggy-backs everywhere.
Alex makes another sound: a kind of clicking noise like a frustrated international ping pong player. You lean over and look at the chapter heading: Our Daily Bread.