The Pulse of Kato Whip: 06
Excerpt:
He negotiated a contortionist’s nightmare of rubber bands, setting off several, and stepped into what proved to be the kitchen. The woman stood over a hot stove, ladle in hand, preparing a spaghetti and meatball dish more puzzling than the house. “Uh, hi,” he whispered. “I’m looking for the lady of the house.”
She glanced around at him, a woman as nondescript as they come: middle-aged, plain-featured, raggedy-dressed. Yet there was something tantalizingly beautiful in her domestic pose, the frizzy penumbra of rebelliousness in her drawn-back hair, the way her calf muscles bunched one after the other as she shifted foot to foot. Her face was flushed with the heat of the stove, her brow and neck glistened, and her nose ran as she sniffled and sneezed. All the while her temples throbbed with concentration, for the spaghetti-and-meatball dish was growing ever more complex with each application of the ladle, such that Kato began to sense about it not so much a culinary masterpiece as some arcane mathematical construct, perhaps a topological exploration of the human digestive tract as written in the algebra of hunger.
The adventure continues…
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