Noodles

A bowl of squigly, wormy noodles, swimming in scarlet sauce. Chunks of red and brown clinging here and there. If you poke it, it jiggles, it is all too easy to imagine it crawling away. Like some sort of demented million armed octopus. You don't want to eat it. At all. But you have too. You have been  promised you will sit there all night if you have to, but you MUST finish those noodles. So you just sit there in front of those soggy, red, swimming, jiggling noodles.