by Liam Hogan
It was easy to catch and we willingly caught it. A disease that consumed fat, leaving us pounds, stones, lighter. Spread by saliva, spread by touch; tables of finger food which the infected browsed before everyone else tucked in. Epidemiologists threw up their hands in horror at these super-spread parties, but weren’t they looking slimmer too? Hypocrites, warning of the unknown, of the need to lay down reserves for times of scarcity, times of famine.
They were right about that. Once it ate through our fat, where was its next meal coming from?
Spread by bites, spread by ravenous munchers…
Liam Hogan is an award-winning, London based, short story writer.