As I got up and dressed the next morning, random bits of knowledge whispered across the back of my mind. Who my dinner was, what he did, where he lived, any investments, and so on. I tried to ignore them. Within a few hours, everything would have settled, and I could remember his entire life as if it had happened to me.

I hoped he wasn’t married. Married people mean loose ends. Especially if they’re the sole breadwinner for a family. I feel guilty about that. I can send them an anonymous check from the Swiss bank accounts I picked up back when I had a taste for rich food, but they can start asking awkward questions and I have to move on. Once or twice I ended up having to eat an entire family, which I just don’t like to do. I have nothing against devouring other women, but doing kids makes me feel too much like a pedophile. And they give me gas.

I was so involved in my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice the one crucial fact sinking home. When I did, it stopped me dead in my tracks.