Sitting at the dinner table, I looked at Alina sitting across from me, dining with me, before raising a leg of chicken at her face.
"You're soooo..."
But I had to stop as a sharp cannon recoil built up inside my lungs before escaping from my mouth. It came and went in an instant, barely making me react.
Ah, annoying hicks.
"...fucking persistent—hick—you know that?"
And why was I waving a leg at her face instead of eating?
I brought my leg—chicken leg—to my mouth, taking a mouthful of meat. It was delicious...but only for a short moment, as everything—from my nose to my tongue to my lips—started to burn.
Oh, my poor lips. —Where was it?
Swinging my hand to the side and after hitting several useless things, finally, a cool sensation of a tin can was felt against my palm.
"And, and, why—hick—why is it so spicy?"
Quickly extinguishing the fire with sizzling beer was just too painful, but I did it anyway with my eyes glaring at the red meat in my other hand.
