Ingredient

Roasting potatoes on one side and bread and milk in the other. The odor of the cooking milk and the sting of things being cooked that shouldn’t be gave it an acrid odor that stung my nose. I concentrated on breathing through my mouth and tried not to think about the taste on my tongue.

It’s awful.

“What’s the bread for?” I pointed and asked.

“Bread puddin’ for dessert.” He beamed. Holding the pot proudly.

Bread pudding and blood. I was getting sicker. Beneath the counter where he couldn’t see, I put a palm to my heaving stomach.

I’d been queasy for days and this was only making it worse.

I knew I needed to ask the question I so badly didn’t want the answer to.

“But how do ye puts all tha’ blood in there.” I made a stirring motion with my finger over it.

He grinned. “Well, there’s art in it, really. Ye has ta mix it with other flavors ta help make it...”

He smacked his lips to indicate ‘tasty’.

I nodded sagely. “So there’s blood in all ‘dis?”