Vesna McMaster - Glow

‘Shall I look up some local eateries?’ He has phone poised and ready, Google imminent.

'Why don't we ask the concierge?'

'I duno, I saw a bunch of restaurants on the way in from the airport.'

She ignores him and trots up to the hotel desk, as chirpily as a ten hour flight will allow.

'Hi, could you recommend some nearby restaurants, please? Low-key, not far, not too expensive. Do you have something that's a local speciality?'

'Ah, yes,' the man behind the strangely low desk nods like a Zen master delivering thousand--year-old law. 'Firefly squid.'

'Ooh, sounds special. Where would you recommend?'

He circles a point on the tear-off map, without seeming to move any other part of his body.

'This restaurant. Very good. Best in the city.'

'OK…expensive?'

His head moves slightly to one side, as if listening to the sounds of another universe. 'Not very.'

She shrugs. 'OK, we'll give it a go, thank you!'

On the way out, they google firefly squid. They are indeed a local speciality, and videos show them being caught at night, glowing like so many fairies in the blackness of the inky seas. How romantic.

The establishment is forbiddingly orderly. Tatami rooms. Floor seating. The other clientele are all male and seem to have been born in starched suits.

The visitors take their seats and order firefly squid.

That was the last time they ordered firefly squid.

If they had harboured memories of the delicious fat squid sashimi of a few days ago, these were shattered. A saucer of gelatinous little bodies, collapsed one on top of the other, is set before them. They are intact: untouched apart from by the hand of Death, complete with their innards and ink sacks, their magic glow is forever extinguished. If 'bitter' were an embodied, it would be firefly squid.

The waiter appears before them. 'Everything OK? Would you like another helping?'

They shake their heads, frozen into terrified smiles.