Inside were several dead flies.
My brain didn’t process it immediately.
Then, before I could react, Mike grabbed a serviette, picked up one of the flies, and dropped it onto his half-eaten plate of shrimp—his second serving.
I stared at him.
“What are you doing—?”
He leaned closer, cutting me off in a whisper. “Just sit back and watch.”
My heart started racing. That wasn’t a joke. That wasn’t normal.
And suddenly, the entire night felt wrong.
Mike raised his hand and called the waitress over.
When she arrived, his tone completely changed.
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