Rice Paper
It was downright offensive. My mouth instantly reviled at the skin-like, waxy texture. My appetite ran from me, unsated. The tears welled up, stinging my eyes and punishing my idiocy further. My stomach rumbled in retaliation.
Bile filled the back of my throat as my body fought to get whatever this was out of me. Tears fell to the warm, wooden table. My nose watered similarly, and I swallowed the hot, acidic half-vomit.
Blinking and blowing my nose, I regained awareness of my surroundings. Five more of the disgraced California Rolls sat in front of me, wrapped in rice paper.
