Living Alone by H. Donald Cabinet

The grilled chicken is heaped on a mound of iceberg, almost ripe tomatoes, and surprisingly crisp radishes. Balsamic vinaigrette on the side. I dip my fork before skewering each piece of a balanced bite: chicken, lettuce, and either a radish or tomato. I alternate with every forkful. With practiced percision, I attempt to cut a large morsel in half. Dressing erupts with my forceful thrust, spattering my keypad and LCD monitor.