When Angela swung by Donovan’s restaurant after work, she hardly recognized the place. Customers were lined up out the door, and every table was full of hungry people. She fought her way past the crowds, and just as the harried hostess was about to tell her the wait times, Donovan himself came out to greet her.
“Angela, just look! Come, have you eaten yet?” The bear of a man led her into the back while they chatted. Donovan and her had known each other since high school. While she pursued her career in chemistry, Donovan worked his way up a different ladder. He had worked in some of the finest restaurants in town until eventually he found the right combination of entrepreneurs, chefs, and investors (including Angela) to help him start his own place.
Donovan led her to the back and to his tiny office. Receipts and printouts of daily takes covered his desk. “It’s amazing,” Angela said, taking a seat in the only chair in the room. “I’ve never seen the place this busy before.”
“It’s really something, isn’t it? Just a month ago I was talking with everyone about shutting the place down, and now I’m looking at buying the place next door. Well, it’s all thanks to you,” Donovan said, giving her a wink.
“Just be careful,” Angela said. “You haven’t been putting it in everything, have you? We could get in a lot of trouble if this gets out.”
Donovan shook his head. “That’s the crazy part: I only used it a couple of times. But every single one of the people who ate it have come back, sometimes on consecutive days. And they’ve all raved about the food, even when there wasn’t any gluta-whatever in it.”
“All right, then. It should be fine, just don’t go spreading it around more than you have to. And from the looks of things, you probably don’t need more of it.”
“No, for sure. It’s crazy how fast word-of-mouth has spread, too. I’d offer you a seat, but you see what things are like out there. Can I get you something to go?”
Angela accepted the offer and went out front to wait for her food. Although she wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, she noticed that some of the patrons were enjoying their food a bit more than others. And to be clear, everyone seemed happy, but there were a few who seemed to be really diving into the meal.
In one corner, a heavy-set couple were lovingly feeding each other off their forks. But the longer Angela looked, the stranger things seemed. Their mouths were both covered in sauce, and flecks of food dotted their clothes. They ate with ravenousness that was almost animalistic and, somehow, carnal. Barely one bite left a utensil when another appeared. They were racing one another to see who could not just finish first, but feed the other fastest.
The couple wasn’t the only one acting weird. The same scene was playing out at a few different tables, Angela noticed. At one, a family stared in awe as their father pigged out on two separate dishes, neither noticing nor caring about anyone else around him. At another table, four diners all ate quickly in silence, stacking empty dishes one by one into an enormous pile. At another, four young women sitting in front of empty plates were desperate to get the attention of a waiter to order more.
Not every table, mind, and some of the other diners were staring in disgust at the scenes around them. But still, it was enough to make Angela think. Was Donovan really just spiking a few dishes?
At home, Angela ate her lasagna tentatively, hoping to discover whether it had been tampered with. She herself had never tried glutaryloxyacetate, but she knew what to expect: a salty, savory flavor that lingered on the tongue. Nothing in her meal seemed off, though.