The evening had begun as a calm, sophisticated outing in a popular downtown restaurant, chosen for its cozy ambiance and reputation for high-quality dishes. My friend and I were seated near a window, bathed in the soft glow of low-hanging lights, with gentle music creating a relaxing backdrop. The table was neatly set, menus thoughtfully prepared, and the aroma of fresh ingredients filled the air. My friend opted for a salad featuring avocado, quinoa, and an assortment of greens—a dish that seemed wholesome and carefully composed. At first, everything appeared normal: the presentation was elegant, the portions inviting, and the overall atmosphere promised a peaceful and enjoyable meal.
The first unsettling moment came unexpectedly. As my friend raised her fork, her movements abruptly halted, her gaze fixed intently on her plate. Initially, we assumed her concern was minor, perhaps a misplaced leaf or an unusual garnish. We leaned in, expecting to see something benign, like tiny seeds or grains added to enhance texture. However, the initial curiosity quickly transformed into alarm. She whispered urgently, “These aren’t seeds. They’re moving.” The words alone sent a shiver through me, replacing the calm atmosphere with sudden dread. We stared in disbelief, struggling to comprehend what we were seeing.
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