In our series Writers’ Fridges, we bring you snapshots of the abyss that writers stare into most frequently: their refrigerators.
The champagne is something I’d never drink alone. I like having it there to remind me of something missing in my social life. It’s been there for over a year, gathering the chill but always welcoming. An ostrich egg was something I’d always wanted, but I didn’t know where to get one. Then I was at Whole Foods and there it sat among the turnips and beets in the produce section. That was three years ago. I’d leave it to my heirs if I had any.
The ground beef and rib-eye steaks are always there, but like the river—never the same.
My refrigerator, I now realize, has a past with little concern for the future. It could be a writer.
You can read the rest of the entries in this series here.
Walter Mosley is the author, most recently, of John Woman, out September 4th from Atlantic Monthly Press.
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