I Left My Wings on a Chair

Dangers of Miso soup

7 D a n g e r s o f m I s o s o U P I don’t trust miso soup, she says, and ominous music begins to play in the background as she pushes her soup away with long rust-colored nails, miso soup sloshing innocently in its painted bowl, although, suspiciously murky, hiding strips of seaweed. even later, when she tells me what she meant was I am vegetarian, and sometimes Japanese restaurants stir fish paste into their miso soup, I can’t stop the movie from playing: courageous heroine leaps from her car—escape facilitated by her unclasped seatbelt—and then! no time to scream, miso soup in close pursuit, she runs down the street in stilettos, flowy sleeves billowing like smoke from a gun, miso soup closing in, white paddle-spoon clattering. ...