There’s an eye in my soup

I can’t see a damned thing. Ruben, the waiter, comes and asks if I want to drink an aperitif wine while he takes my hand and handles a wine glass. I allow myself to take it and try drinking it without spilling any. The waiter leaves with a funny dragging noise.

Then the first dish arrives and it smells like fish. It is tender and covered in small grains that seem to be glued to each other with a soft substance. It might be something like cream or cheese. My girlfriend convinced me of coming here to have dinner to convince me her ugly food is good enough to eat.

Maybe she is right. Up to now, things have been quite good. The darkness is a total assault and I can’t really make sense on how to use my cutlery. I just don’t seem to catch on these Brussel sprouts. Question, are these really Brussels? They could be anything else. And this is when my phone starts ringing. I was supposed to turn it off but I made clear to everyone around I’m really expecting this call from the lab. I mean, they don’t need me there since the DNA results won’t come out faster by me waiting by the lab. So I came to eat… Instead.

Nonetheless, the call comes and I answer it. The dim light coming from my phone shines for a moment over my plate… Nah. It can’t be. That something round is a Brussel. I focus on my call. It seems the DNA matches and the murderer is really the husband. I tell Celeste and she congratulates me by calling my name in her seductive voice: «April».

All right. This is bothering me. I have to look so I use the phone’s torch. This thing… Well this isn’t a Brussel sprout. I call Ruben, the blind waiter to tell him discreetly but still using my phone’s light:
—Ruben, there’s an eye in my soup! — I whisper worried.
To my surprise, he just takes the eye and tucks it in his empty left eye socket to leave the table limping. I don’t want to look around but I do. Everybody at the table is missing an eye. Some of them are missing chunks of flesh too. My scream resonates in my ears for a long, long time.