i cooked baby toads. fried them on a pan. at least a dozen of them. when one was about to die, the others would hop over and suffocate them to make it quicker. it was going to be a fancy dinner. i left the kitchen to get ready and when i came back the pan was gone. he said he put it away. i found it in the cupboard. a few toads had hopped away but not many. i put them back on the burner and watched them become a mound of dead slime. it made me a little nauseous and i hated that i was killing them. people could stick toothpicks in them and get a chunk at a time. i would be having none of it. it wasn’t really my thing. exiting a pub and standing in the snow next to a frozen thames, we said our goodbyes. she said she would join us and take a later bus back to headington but the buses weren’t running anymore. had i ever seen a taxi in oxford? i didn’t remember seeing one. we stared across the frozen river and could see all of europe there, buildings older than my country standing beige in the fog. i took a picture.