In 100 words…

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The Opulent Corpse

“Look,” the maître d’ whispered, “at the opulent corpse.”

Across the room, a candlelit face, elderly gentleman, tuxedo and top hat, sipping wine, nodding approvingly to a waiter, accepting a fuller glass.

“I see.”

“Follow me.”

The maître d’ held my chair, table across from the opulent corpse.

Or did he say corpulent flesh?

“Look at the corpulent flesh?”

Bursting room, opulent flesh, slightly over-weighted, plump with joy, but corpulent?

Another mis-overhearing? Perception of the correct reality is something I’m still working on.

“I recommend the fresh fish?”

The waiter stared, waiting, waiting.

“Sir, need a minute?”


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