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“Who are you?” I snap, gesturing for her to come closer.

“Uh—the chef?” she proposes, her voice wobbling.

Right, the other one decided to go missing. I would make sure they regretted that when found.

Narrowing my eyes, I take in her form.

“List the ingredients in this…”

She sets the plate down in front of me, the smell wafting intoxicatingly and my previous rage suffuses into the air.

“It’s a blackened salmon with a m-m-mushroom risotto. Topped with whole mushrooms and roasted b-b-broccoli.” She stutters, but my focus remains on the dish.

“The ingredients of everything you used.”

She lists them all, and satisfied, I take a bite.

There is an explosion of flavors in my mouth, my memories dragging me back to a warm place that I had all but forgotten.

My eyes flash up to her face, to the stained white coat she wears. “Who are you?”

“Uh, Cinnamon?”

I jolt at the name. “Leave.”

“There will be leftovers. Just in case that’s not enough.”

And then she’s gone.

Before I know what I am doing, I devour the rest of the plate.

***

I awake in a cold sweat.

There will be leftovers.

Stumbling out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen. In a haze, I heat up another plate of the risotto.

I eat it in the kitchen, shoveling spoonfuls at a time into my mouth before I realize what I’m doing.

The flavor is different… In fact, it’s almost like there’s…

My throat swells, and I realize my mistake.

This had an additional ingredient. Something I was deadly allergic to.

My throat closes up before I can even think of finding my EpiPen. Before I can scream for help.

My spoon clatters to the ground as I stumble back from the food. My vision darkens, my mind clouds.

My breath splutters out of my chest as my heart hammers in my chest.

The allergy no one knew I had.

The one ingredient I avoided at all costs… because eating it could take my life.

Cinnamon.